Inigo's Hidden Talent
by Alan B. Smithee
Summary: Aside from his dancing, Inigo, son of Olivia and Chrom, is discovered to have other secret talents as well. Featuring the public domain songs of Roger Quilter, with a few PD pieces by John Ireland.
1. Chapter 1

Severa dipped her head under the water, rinsing her long red hair that clung to her shoulders as she re-emerged. The Shepherds, having found a sprawling cave system filled with pools of water, decided to camp just outside it as they continued their march. A female and male area was allotted for bathing and general relaxation, though the size meant each had to use the water in groups. One might imagine that Severa would be bothered to be the last in the water, but due to the odd number placement, she got the last shift of the evening all to herself. She let out a sigh of relief as she wrung out her hair and tossed it behind her back. As pleasant as it was, the sun was nearly set, and the lantern kept by the water was clearly running low on oil. Opting to cut her time short rather than be caught in darkness, she got out of the water and headed for her clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock.

The entrance to the cave was small, and a wall of rock kept a direct view into the system obscure. She silently thanked the gods for that, as she quickly dressed herself. She heard muffled conversation down a narrow tunnel where the male pool was, and heard the splashing water sound of someone getting out. The lantern by the male pool cast its light on a wall that Severa could see, and a shadow of someone made itself known. Severa grabbed her sword that laid nearby, understanding perfectly well the shadow probably posed no threat, but conditioned her whole life to never take any chances.

The figure stepped into the tunnel, where its short blond hair made its wearer obvious. Owain fiddled with his shirt, and upon seeing Severa let a large smile appear on his face. "Greetings, my severe companion!" he said in his usual theatrical voice. A small giggle escaped from him as he looked back at her. "Did you get...did you see what I did there?"

Severa could have rolled her eyes, but if she did that every time Owain made that joke they would have long since rolled out of her head. She let a huff of annoyance convey the message for her.

"Ah!" he said, lifting up his hands in mock defense. "The woman casts her icy glare at the noble warrior! He feels the energy fading from his very form! But, o, what is this? A surge of energy, the last of his very being, flows to his trusty sword hand, ready to liberate..."

"Enough, Owain. Are you coming back to camp or what?"

"Alright, alright," he said. "It's just that Inigo is staying behind for a few more minutes. As formidable a swordsman as he may be, it brings my heart worry to leave him behind in darkened cave system whose deepest recesses have yet to be explored."

Severa knew that Owain and Inigo were close. They were first cousins after all, Owain only a year older than that incorrigible flirt with the royal blue hair. She was perfectly willing to leave without them, when she noticed Owain bouncing softly from one foot to the other, realizing he was without shoes. "Owain," she said, "where are your shoes?"

Owain sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "I was in such a hurry to come, I may have left them in my tent."

"Hurry?" she said, "You and Inigo were the last men to go in!"

"True, my dear!" He said, speaking with his hands in sweeping gestures, looking absolutely ridiculous as he continued to shift from one foot to another, the cold of the stones evidently getting to him. "But, when Owain, master of the sword, is tempted with a warm soak to ease the tension of his impressive physique, he can be made to forget trivial matters such as mere boots and buckles!"

Severa let out a huff. "Just go back to camp. I'll wait for Inigo, if it will make you feel better." She said, though her closed eyes and frown displayed an annoyed resignation more than a kind offer.

Owain smiled again, prepared to make another speech, before he felt Severa's hands push his back toward the cave entrance. He walked out, quickening his pace to reach the grass and dirt that had been warmed by the still setting sun. Severa crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, still seeing light from the lantern by the male pool, and hearing soft splashing that she assumed was Inigo's bathing. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the man to finally get on with it and get out there, mentally scolding herself for offering to stay when she knew Inigo was the biggest night owl in the Shepherds. There was no telling how long he might stay in the water.

Just as she was beginning to debate whether or not to just bring him out herself, or at the very least call for him. She heard his voice softly waver and echo down the tunnel. It moved up and down, some words sustained, some words short. Was he...was he _singing?_

_"Dark red roses in a honeyed wind swinging,  
__Silk-soft hollyhock, colored like the moon;"_

She perked up and stood up straight as his voice bounced from the cold stone into her ears. It was a warm tenor voice, one that was clearly his, but at the same time unlike anything she expected his singing voice to sound like.

_"Larks high overhead lost in light, and singing;  
__That's the way of June."_

She stepped closer quietly, her mouth open in surprise as she crept near the bend in the tunnel where the male pool's lantern continued to shine. She noticed a shadow that must be him, moving his arms in gestures that were hard to make out from her angle.

_"Dark red roses in the warm wind falling,  
__Velvet leaf by velvet leaf, all the breathless noon;  
__Far off sea waves calling, calling, calling;  
__That's the way of June."_

He was getting more involved, his voice going louder, his gestures wider, his enthusiasm far greater in this second verse. His soft humming of a brief, simple instrumental carried the same tenor notes to Severa, who frankly could not believe what she was hearing. In all the time she had known Inigo (and what a long time that had been), she never heard him sing. To hear it now, and for it to be so...

_"Sweet as scarlet strawberry, under wet leaves hidden,  
__Honey'd as the damask rose, lavish as the moon,"_

His voice picked up and speed and power, clearly reaching its crescendo, and Severa gripped the rocky wall feeling its power rush over her in chills as he reached the finale.

_"Shedding lovely light on things forgotten, hope forbidden,  
__That's the way of June;  
__The way, the way, of June!"_

The echo of that last "June" reverberated through the cave walls, and by extension, Severa herself. She stood in complete silence, entranced by the fading sound of the most beautiful singing she had ever heard. It did not matter that the song itself was far from complex, or that the lyrics were far more flowery than she would normally care for. His voice transcended the song, whose melody he continued to hum as he rose from the water, and stepped out of the pool, dripping wet on the cold stone ground. Severa heard his movement, and silently creeped away, her heart still racing. She she slipped outside the cave walls and saw the sun was now entirely gone, the light of the moon and the Shepherds' campfires now the only remaining light as she stepped quickly toward camp.

Meanwhile, Inigo, dressed and with his lantern in hand, made his way down the narrow tunnel toward the exit. He realized no light was coming from outside, meaning he must have stayed quite a bit longer than the few minutes he promised Owain earlier. However, he had had this one stain of dirt near a sensitive area that refused to come off, and as a chance to bathe does not come every day when on the road, he had to take care of it now. Even if Owain was his cousin, rubbing an area like _that_ to get the stain out would have been too much for the shy flirt to handle. He still hummed the song that he had sung earlier. He knew he was far from the best singer, but the acoustics were too great with the echo not to try at least one song.

He continued toward the entrance when he saw the lantern Severa had left behind in her haste, a tiny flame still flickering in desperate need of oil. Inigo saw the flame, and looked around for anyone. "Hello?" he called, to no answer. For a moment, a chill ran over him as he imagined some one had listened in to him singing. His face went flush with bashfulness at the mere thought. Sure, he could hold a note, and practice had given him breath control for a song like "June," but to actually be heard by anyone (with one notable exception) would be terribly embarrassing.

He took a moment to compose himself. He reasoned that whoever was the last one in the female pool must have simply forgotten it, and that he was totally alone. The relief he felt then was overshadowed by the realization that he was totally alone. In the middle of a cave system. In the middle of the night. With a fading lantern. By himself.

He grabbed the other lantern and made quick work for the cave door, thankful for the moonlight as he made his way to the camp.


	2. Chapter 2

Severa spent the whole night tossing and turning on her bedroll, the echoing notes of Inigo's voice still resonating in her head. If she had heard the singing from a stranger or an organized performer, she would be thinking about that lovely song the whole night in bliss. The fact that it was emitted from _Inigo's_ mouth, of all people, meant that she was certainly thinking about it, but her thoughts were more conflicted.

How long had she known Inigo? Her mother, Cordelia, was a Pegasus Knight for the Kingdom of Ylisse, and a personal protector for the Ylissean Royal Family. Her father, Gregor, was a travelling mercenary, who settled down for Cordelia's sake when he saw her eternal devotion to Ylisse, or more specifically, its Exalt, Chrom. As Inigo was a prince, Chrom and Olivia's second child and only son, surely they had spent much time together over the years.

All the fighting, all the flirting, the inane conversations with Owain and Gerome, all the playful bickering with Lucina; years and years through think and thin she fought by his side. But, in all that time, she never once knew how well he could sing. The thought of his (objectively) handsome face being paired with such an (objectively) pleasing voice sent a strange feeling down her spine. Yet, as she turned once again to face the ceiling of her tent, she scowled at a much different feeling playing in her head.

What did she actually _know_ about the man she fought so long alongside? She knew he was a flirt; that much was public knowledge. She knew he was not the leader Lucina was (not that anyone else could be), but was a more than capable swordsman in times of need. She knew that in serious matters, pertaining to their perpetual fight against the rise of Grima, he would never abandon them, and would face any army or dangerous foe to keep his family and friends safe. He was a noble, if heavily flawed, figure in that way.

Yet, what did he enjoy besides chasing skirt? What did he think about when he lay awake at night as she did now? What did he think of this; of the time travel, the fighting, the marching? Frankly, what did he think of_ her_? _Did_ he think of her? Was she anything to him besides a partner on the battlefield or a potential female to take to bed?

These questions wracked her mind as she turned to the side again. She was getting ahead of herself. Perhaps she was overthinking this entirely. So what if he could sing? It did not change anything about him as a person. She had better things to think about than that little...little...thing! She closed her eyes with determination. She was not going to think about him for the rest of the night, she was going to get some sleep.

...

"Is something wrong, Severa?" Lucina said, looking her up and down. "You look as though you have something on your mind."

Severa continued to look down at the weapon she was sharpening. She and Lucina were alone in the weapons storehouse, making sure the reserve weaponry was up to snuff to handle the battle that was sure to come soon. "I'm fine," she said.

Lucina lifted the Falcion to her un-branded eye to examine its edge: Sharp enough to slice a hair in two: lengthwise. She nodded in approval before placing the magical weapon back within its sheath. "Did you enjoy the water in the cave systems last night?" she said, "I know you ended up going last in the female group."

Why? Why bring that up? "Yeah, it was nice," she said.

"That's good to know. Some of the Shepherds complain at going so late in the order, but my brother for some reason actually prefers it."

Severa narrowed her eyes, still looking at a somewhat rusty spear. Hopefully, Lucina thought she was just examining it. "Why do you suppose that is?" Severa said.

"I'm not really sure. He always was one to stray off on his own. Even as a child, when he was not with me, or Owain, or one of our parents," that last word dipped slightly in her voice, "he was off by himself."

"Did you ever wonder what he did in all that time?" she asked. Did Lucina even know he could sing?

"Of course; he's my younger brother after all." Lucina straightened up, as she always did when she talked of responsibility. "I tried to keep an eye on him to keep him out of danger. However, most of the time he was in the storage room playing with an old piano that Frederick refused to either throw away or get refurbished."

"A piano?" Severa asked. "I didn't know he played."

"Of course, we both were taught some simple songs. It was part of the etiquette classes mother insisted on us taking. Piano, violin, a simple waltz, table manners." In a rare moment of humor she pulled her arm to her chest in a dignified pose, and put on a voice of dignified grace. "The essential skills of royalty to survive in the higher part of the world."

"Your mother was big on etiquette?" Severa asked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Isn't that kind of weird. You know, given her background?"

"Father certainly never cared for the finer parts of etiquette, and Maribelle had quite a time teaching her from what I understand. I guess she wanted to make sure we learned like she did. From what I gather, some particularly...well, let's say 'traditional' nobles were not comfortable with my father's choice of wife. They thought she would spoil us somehow. Make us...unworthy of the throne in class and attitude."

Severa nodded in understanding, seeing a fiery glint in Lucina's branded eye. "So, she wanted to prove them wrong?"

"Maybe..." Lucina said. A period of silence came over them then, and Severa, already feeling like she was prying a bit, decided to keep the conversation going, at the very least to break the silence. "So," she began, "Inigo played on some old piano?"

Lucina shook her head briefly, letting some thoughts scatter as she looked down again upon another sword she was sharpening. "Yeah. He really liked music, and always wanted to learn to play more complex things than 'the Ylissean March.' Owain was always the better player, but Inigo would sit beside him, or practice alone in the storage area when Owain wasn't around."

A nostalgic grin flashed on Lucina's face as she stopped sharpening the sword, clearly lost in a memory. "I remember once coming to see them after hearing Owain playing after I was done with sword training. I walked in and saw Owain at the piano bench, as Inigo was on the floor writing notes on sheet music, talking about needing words to a new song he was trying to compose. I asked them to play what Inigo had written, but both of them seemed a bit shy to let me hear it. They told me it wasn't ready, and only the composer and the musician needed to hear a song before it was done. I believe Owain compared it to 'taking bread out of an oven before the crust was formed.'"

Severa took the information in. Inigo was an aspiring composer? And Owain was in on it with him? "Does he..." Severa said, pausing, "Does he still compose? Play piano? Sing?"

Lucina looked back at Severa slightly surprised, and Severa felt a small blush creep on her face. "He got more into dancing like our mother right before..." Now it was Lucina's turn to pause. "You know...I'm not sure if he even remembers how to play piano. I certainly don't. And, did you say sing?"

Severa crossed her arms, closing her eyes angrily, though the rage was internal for not having an adequate response to that question. "Well," Severa began, "You said he was asking for lyrics right? He must have planned on somebody singing it! No offense to your cousin, but I've heard Owain sing at the tavern, and its not a sight to behold."

Lucina could not suppress a laugh at that. "That is true. Owain can hardly hold a note, though I'm afraid I'm not much one to judge. Inigo though..." she put her hand to her chin, looking upward in thought. "I don't think I've ever heard him sing." She smiled more as she looked back to Severa. "Though, given my singing voice and Owain's, I can't imagine it would be too spectacular."

'Oh, you poor fool,' Severa thought. 'You don't even know.' "I think..." Severa knew it was stupid, but she just could not hold it back. "I think his voice would be nice."

Lucina was looking at her now. Severa knew she never complimented anyone. To give Inigo (Inigo of all people) a compliment on something she (as far as Lucina knew) had not even heard was profoundly out of character. Lucina placed the sword down, before turning to Severa seriously. 'Uh oh.'

"Severa," Lucina began, "Why are you asking so many questions about my brother?" Her voice was neutral, but Severa could not shake the clear implication of her words. "I was just making conversation!" Severa said, arms still crossed, attitude somewhat indignant.

"You have never cared so much about him before," Lucina said. "If I recall, you thought his flirting habits were frustrating. What could lead to this sudden change of interest?" Some might have said this rhetorically, or in a playful, teasing way. Lucina's tone was unreadable, which did not put Severa at ease.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Severa crossed her arms and closed her eyes.

"Severa," Lucina replied, "Are you falling for my brother?"

Severa had to open her eyes at that. To her dismay, Lucina's face was not playful or happy. It was as blank and serious as she was on the battlefield. A single bead of sweat appeared near Severa's hairline.

Suddenly, Severa shot up. "Fall for your brother?! What are you, daft?! What kind of harlot do you take me for?!" Her tone was filled with rage and indignation. "To even suggest that I would succumb to some cheap flirtations, that with a wink of his eye or a flip of his hair I would begging like a dog for a bone! It's insulting! I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?!" Severa huffed, her arms crossing again. "Clearly not if you would suggest such a foolish idea!"

Lucina sat still for a moment, and Severa briefly though she had played it up too much. Granted, she only said what was true, though her vitriolic delivery was more to prove a point. Lucina then stood up herself, her eyes betraying a small amount of guilt. "I apologize that my words have upset you," she said, "I had no intentions of implying you were susceptible to my brother's misguided charms. I meant no disrespect with my question, and I'm sorry that I asked it."

Severa looked for any hint of insincerity before mentally slapping herself when she remembered she was talking to Lucina. A woman whose only manipulating tactic was an inspiring speech before a battle. "It's fine," Severa said, "Just so long as were clear that I don't have feelings for your brother."

Lucina stood for a moment more, before letting out an audible sigh of relief, which struck Severa the wrong way. "That is good to know," Lucina said. She turned toward the rack where weapons remained to be polished, placing the sharpened sword down before pulling a small cutlass out and examining it. "I always knew that one day Inigo, for all his womanizing ways, would eventually find a woman he felt close enough to reveal to all of us, Though, the thought has always brought me some level of discomfort."

"Oh," Severa replied, "Why is that?"

"I'm sure you know that I made a promise to my father to always look after my little brother." Lucina turned toward Severa, the blade resting idly in her hands by her waist. "It's a promise I intend on keeping, both on and off the battlefield."

'Oh, so she's just looking out for her brother,' Severa thought. 'Its actually kind of sweet.'

"I'm sure that I do not need to explain to you how women can be from time to time," Lucina said.

"I'm sorry?" Severa replied.

"You know, the gossiping, the double dealing." Lucina turned away, replacing the cutlass for a slightly larger broadsword, whose side reflected to Severa a pair of determined blue eyes. "I've heard plenty of horror stories in noble circles. Of women with pretty eyes or pretty hair, willing to swoon off their feet when an eligible bachelor rolls around." Severa could see clenched teeth as Lucina angled the blade down. "Harlots willing to play a part, to fiddle with emotions and thoughts for a few free meals or some jewelry. Then, just as the man thinks he has found his soulmate, they break his heart just like that." Lucina's snapped her fingers to add emphasis. "Then disappear, leaving the man heartbroken and crestfallen."

Lucina rubbed her finger on the edge of the blade, evidently testing its sharpness. "I've seen my brother sad and disheartened when he is rejected on his rounds of flirting, and that is more than fine." She leveled the blade, extending her arm outward to make a slow swinging motion. "However, I know that if he ever found a true love that returned his feelings, only to find out latter that she was merely playing with him, he would be devastated."

Lucina extended her arm fully, staring down the length of the blade with one eye closed. "I promised to protect Inigo," she continued, "And whatever his objections, I fully intend on letting anyone that sweeps him off his feet know that their intentions had better be pure, and their heart had better be true." Lucina brought the blade up to her face, the edge nearly touching her nose as she stared down both broadsides of the blade. "Because I do not intend on seeing my brother heartbroken." Her voice took on a seriousness Severa, in all the time she had known Lucina, had never heard before. "And I do not forgive those who make me break a promise."

Apparently finding the broadsword satisfactory, she placed it on the rack, and turned to Severa, her face now relaxed with a partial grin. "Well, I think it's about time for the midday meal. Shall we get going?"

Severa stood still as a statue for a moment before saying, "Yes, yes we should!"

Lucina walked out first, and Severa followed, her face still expressing some shock, and her mind expressing a prayer to every god in existence to shed some mercy on the first girl that tried to make a move on Lucina's brother.


	3. Chapter 3

Not long after Severa had heard Inigo singing in the cave system, the Shepherds were tasked with clearing out an old chateau that had been overrun with risen. The large building would be a nice base of operations for the next stage of their march, and the previous owners were apparently nowhere in sight. Whether that was because they had left the country, a la Virion, or because they had met a more gruesome fate was not determined.

The work was surprisingly easy given the potential for ambush such a location provided. However, risen were known for their brawn more than their brain, so the Shepherds managed to divide and conquer in the chateau's many halls and rooms. Within four hours, the building and surrounding area was cleared of risen, and the Shepherds were tasked to scope out the location to make sure no stragglers remained within the chateau's walls. Lucina, Severa, Inigo, and Owain were tasked with clearing out the east wing, separated from the main building by a long colonnade, while Chrom, Olivia, Cordelia, and Gaius worked on the west wing, similarly separated. The remaining Shepherds worked in the central building of the chateau, as it had by far the most rooms. The wings were relatively small by comparison.

The east wing had already been cleared by the main army, and working their way up, the four of them found nothing. However, a feeling Lucina could not shake kept persisting. A feeling that she had missed something in some closet or wardrobe. Unwilling to be the reason a stray risen attacked somebody in the night, she insisted on checking again, though she made it clear that she did not need help in this regard. There could not have been more than one or two risen left in the wing, even in hiding, and a swordswoman of Lucina's caliber was more than capable of handling such things on her own.

Even so, Inigo and Owain volunteered to stay on the bottom floor of the east wing to ensure no stray risen left as Lucina worked her way down from the top. Severa, for a reason the other three could not decipher, was seemingly in a hurry to head back to her parents and the main group. Inigo and Owain, thinking little of it, wandered briefly to a study or small library, both of them admiring the shelves of books that remained untouched by the risen and the following battle.

It was there Owain noticed the small upright piano in the corner, its keys protectively covered and its wooden finish completely untouched. Owain uncovered the keys in excitement, seeing their perfect ivory glisten in the sunlight from the window. It looked as though it had never been played, though when Owain pressed his fingers down to play a chord, they sung out in perfect tune.

Inigo, his attention now captured by the sound, turned from the books to his cousin. "What are you doing?" he said.

Owain looked back at him. "Why, Inigo of the Indigo Skies, surely you must not have forgotten our past experiences with this magestic instrument."

Inigo smiled. "Yes, we did play quite often when we were younger."

"We did more than that, my friend!" Owain said, his finger pointing to the heavens. "We were an enthralling duo you and I! My trusty sword hand and its faithful companion, ensnared by a rare moment of gentle delicacy, would strike the keys as an archer to his targets! And all the while, you, my artistic companion, would write out your notes like a general outlays his plans, ordering the soldiers of my fingers to act in sequence to conquer our objective: The production of the most beautiful music ever put to the ear!"

"I suppose that's one way to put it," Inigo said.

Owain then stood on his feet. "And then," he said, "not content to merely write an instrumental, we would compose masterful lyrics to accompany your merry notes. One of us would write a poem grander than Archbishop of Exeter's, and you would grace the world with a beautiful tenor, bringing our performance into something worthy of the ears of Naga!"

"You certainly think quite highly of them," Inigo said. "Though, if I can be perfectly frank, we did produce some fine music. Do you remember "Love's Philosophy?"

Owain laughed heartily. "As if I could forget our mighty Opus 4, Number 2!" he said. "It was inspired, my poetry with your music! I truly wonder, my friend, why you do not use that song and its mates more often in your pursuit of the fairer sex? I find it hard to believe they would not be swooning at your feet!"

Inigo maintained his smile, though it devolved into a grin. "You talk as though my mediocre voice would be attractive to a woman."

"_Mediocre_?!" Owain sputtered. He stepped to Inigo and placed both hands on his shoulders, his face expressing a horror whose genuineness Inigo could not discern. "Your voice is something to be admired, envied even! Men would kill to be able to sing like you can!"

Inigo rubbed the back of his head. "I always thought I was a better dancer and swordsman than a singer." To most, Inigo's dancing was a secret, but to his immediate family it was something he could never deny. They had seen far too much. "I can hold a note, sure, but compared to...Owain? What are you doing?"

Owain was now back at the piano bench, rummaging through his leather bag that he always carried when not in the heat of battle. He pulled out a stack of papers, each graced with musical notation in three lines, two for piano, one for voice. Atop the first page read: _Five Songs, Op. 4_. Then in small print: _A Composition by Inigo, House of Ylisse to the librettos of Owain, House of Ylisse and Himself for Voice and Piano._

Inigo blinked. "You kept that all this time?"

"What, of course!" Owain said. "I have kept all our collaborations! Haven't you?"

"Well, yes," Inigo said, "I have our collaborations, and some pieces of my own, but I haven't..."

"Then its settled then!" Owain said. He rested the pages on the rack of the piano, and ran his fingers in an arpeggio up the scale of the piano. He began playing the opening notes of the first song in the series. "Come, cousin. No one can resist singing along to a song they know by heart."

"Owain," Inigo said, his face blushing, "I'm not even sure I remember the words!"

"Of course you do!" Owain said, "You wrote the first and third lyrics yourself! And for my lyrics, I saw how you looked over ever word, paired it with every individual note. You would never forget." Owain's fingers were nearly finished with the opening, and Inigo took several deep breaths in. It was clear Owain was not stopping. Nothing was physically keeping Inigo there to sing, he could leave at any time. But, pride is a powerful motivator, and as Owain began again the first notes of the first song, Inigo breathed in, and began singing a song he had written years ago, "The Answer."

_"Ask me not dear what thing it is that makes me love you so,  
__What graces, what sweet qualities, that from your muses flow."_

...

Lucina was heading down the stairs to the bottom floor, having searched the top of the building as thoroughly as she possibly could. If there was still a risen in the east wing, it was so small that Lissa with a stick could fend it off. She stepped unto ground level, walking down the hallway toward the colonnade, when she heard the sound of muffled piano playing, and a voice she could not recognize singing. Who could that possibly be? She walked toward the sound, the voice and notes giving an implication that the song they were playing was nearly ending.

Her thoughts went to her memories in the days prior, remembering with Severa how Owain and Inigo would play on the old piano. Perhaps they found one and they were playfully reconstructing a ballad or something. A small part of Lucina was angry that they would shirk their duties, but a larger part had a note of happiness. It was not often that they got to re-live a memory or act like children, so when the occasion presented itself, the opportunity must be taken.

She turned the corner just peering into what looked to be a study in remarkably good shape. Sure enough, Owain was striking the keys in a way that betrayed his lack of practice, but was still astonishingly good for someone who had not played in so long. What really caught her eye, however, was her brother Inigo. He stood at an angle, his face visible, but his attention not on her, or anything else for that matter. He stared off at the wall with a distant look in his eyes and a smile on his face as Owain began a song she had never heard before, but that Inigo and Owain had named "Love's Philosophy."

_"The fountains mingle with the river,  
__And the rivers with the ocean,  
__The winds of heaven mix forever  
__with a sweet emotion;"_

Lucina's eyebrows shot up, her eyes widened. 'That was Inigo's singing voice?' she thought, 'But, it's...it's so-'

_"Nothing in the world is single;  
__All things by a law divine  
__In one another beings mingle,  
__Why not I with thine?  
__Not I with thine?"_

His hand extended as he sung out that last word, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She gripped the wall tightly, thinking that maybe she should let them know she was there, but she could not interrupt such a lively and beautiful song.

_"See the mountains kiss high heaven  
__And the waves clasp one another;  
__No sister flower would be forgiven  
__If it disdained its brother;  
__And the sunlight clasps the Earth  
__And the moonbeams kiss the sea:  
__What are all these kissings worth  
__If thou, if thou kiss not me!"_

Lucina felt chills down her arms and legs hearing Inigo play with and stretch the final lyric to a degree she never thought possible. His voice erupted into a strong finale that gave the finished song a sense of completion. Owain's playing stopped to turn the page, when both were interrupted by the sound of a shout outside. It was Chrom, calling everyone to attention in the central courtyard. "Aw," Owain whined, "We were getting to the best song!"

Inigo merely smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder, his back now to Lucina. "It's alright, I'm sure we'll have a chance to finish another time. Maybe we can do some other songs too. It's been a long time since I've sung 'The Reign of the Stars' with accompaniment."

Owain perked up."That was one of our first! In fact, I think it might have been the second song we composed together after 'Come Spring!'"

"I think your right. In any case, let's get..." Inigo stopped talking, staring at his sister, who still had a somewhat open mouth. Lucina could not help but stare for a moment, before saying simply, "Father is calling for us," and making her way outside, an embarrassed blush still creeping up her face.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Chrom's meeting had been brief, merely assigning the watch schedule for the perimeter and allotting a large room of paper and desks in the west wing to Robin, so that he could have adequate space to plan and map out the next movement of the Shepherds. Robin and Virion made quick work of moving Robin's equipment, both combat and tactical, to the west wing, talking about some "game" that they were playing that Virion was consistently winning, much to Robin's chagrin.

As the meeting broke up, and everyone went their separate ways, Lucina was still struck by the enduring notes of "Love's Philosophy," both as as an objectively beautiful song, but more so as a demonstration of Inigo's hidden talent. Her mind raced through every memory she had of Inigo, trying to remember a single time she had ever heard him sing. Much like she confirmed with Severa several days earlier, she truly had not heard her brother's singing voice before. To hear it now, and for it to be so inexplicably spectacular, sent a strange feeling through her very being.

She needed to talk to someone about this, that much was sure. Lucina was always direct and honest with people, for better or for worse, and hated any idea of letting unhandled emotions or thoughts stew within herself. That being said, the amount of people she could talk to was limited. For one, as far as she knew, only herself, Owain, and Inigo himself had ever heard Inigo sing. While speaking to either of them might have been the most direct route, there was also a note of embarrassment. Surely Owain and Inigo had pieced together that she had spied on them while they were making music, and to just brazenly walk up to them and begin pestering them with questions seemed far too forward.

Inigo was famously shy, especially when it came to his talents and abilities (with the single exception of flirting). The only reason she knew he liked to dance is because their mother was his instructor; she doubted she would have ever seen him pirouette otherwise. That he would hide his composing and singing ability was not all that surprising. Owain, however, presented another problem. It was well known that Owain was an open book, and that only a small amount of prodding (especially from someone like his mother Lissa or his father Gaius) would lead him to tell every secret he knew. The fact that he kept the secret with Inigo was something Lucina debated with herself at end. Was it really possible she was the only person that had ever heard her brother sing and her cousin play along? Heard one of what seemed to be many unique compositions?

Her parents probably knew, but the sad truth was the only Chrom and Olivia she had access to had not yet raised Lucina and Inigo, and certainly would not know anything about it in the current day. She wracked every corner of her brain, thinking of anyone who might know. Then, a recent memory struck her. Severa had asked if Inigo had ever sung before. She had accepted her answer then, but...perhaps she was asking because she had heard it, and was merely fishing for someone else who had heard it to talk about it!

'Yes, it all makes sense now! Severa assumed that, as his sister, I would know!' Lucina thought. Her mind filled with resolve, and she left to find Severa to talk about Inigo's hidden talents. However, the more she thought about it, the more came to wonder how exactly Severa had heard Inigo sing. It was possible that Lucina was jumping to conclusions, in which case if she asked directly, she would be revealing a secret Inigo cared so much for he managed to get even Owain to keep it under lock and key. She could not bear to do that, so she decided to ask Severa in the most careful way possible.

...

Severa was walking through the sea of tents and equipment that was being moved throughout the courtyard as the Shepherds worked to establish the chateau as a viable fortification. Her mother asked her to bring up a box of her and Gregor's things from a storage crate, and for all her display of displeasure, she really had no problem assisting her parents in such a trivial task. It was still strange for her to even see her parents, looking younger but still definitely like her parents, and the emotions she felt, both positive and negative, still needed sorted out.

As she was carrying a box that distinctly smelled of alcohol ('_thanks, dad_,' she thought) Severa noticed Lucina approaching her rapidly, her face not clearly good or bad but surely looking determined. Severa's mind flashed back to several days ago, and imagining the worst, Severa began to quicken her pace toward her parents' tent.

Lucina, unburdened by the weight Severa was carrying, quickened her pace as well, and soon Severa was nearly running through the crowds, the box cradled in her chest as she raced ahead. Lucina was no less undaunted, swiftly moving ahead through the mass of soldiers and their aides. "Severa!" Lucina cried. Severa realized Lucina, her superior even in the future, was calling for her now, and she lost all plausible deniability that she was in a hurry and just did not see Lucina coming. She stopped and turned around, a few beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

Lucina approached. "Thank goodness I found you," she said. "Listen, about our conversation the other day, the one regarding my brother..."

'_Oh no_,' Severa thought.

"...I was just in the east wing with Inigo and Owain..."

'_No! What did those idiots say_!'

"...And I learned something about Inigo that I had never known before..."

Severa was shaking now, her mind racing with images of Lucina's prowess on the battlefield. They had known each other forever though. She would not _really_ hurt her over a misunderstanding with her brother...would she?

"You see," Lucina said, her voice pausing, as if she could not find the right words, "it appears as though my brother might have been keeping something from me, something he has only shared openly with Owain, and something I overheard just about an hour ago." Lucina stepped closer to Severa, looking around to see if anyone was listening, and Severa realized that the crowd that she ran through had since scattered, leaving virtually no one paying attention to their conversation. "I was thinking about it since then, and I think you might know what I am talking about."

Severa, paralyzed with fear, stood motionless as Lucina stepped even closer. "_Do_ you know, Severa?" she said, "Are you understanding what I am imply-"

"Severa!"

Severa and Lucina turned toward the sound, which was Cordelia, her mother, waving her hand to call her daughter over with her box. Severa turned back to Lucina. "I'm sorry," she said, "I-I have to deliver this to my parents."

"Well, that-" Lucina said, before realizing Severa was racing toward her mother at a full sprint. Clearly whatever she was delivering was quite important, and Lucina mentally scolded herself for impeding her. The world does not stop, after all, because Lucina heard her brother sing. She stepped away toward the courtyard again, thinking that perhaps she should just let it go. After all, what did it matter if Inigo could sing, or that he was composing music with Owain? He was entitled to a life outside of her, outside of the war for that matter. She went to Robin's new base of operations in the chateau, deciding to make herself useful in the daylight that remained assisting the tactician in organizing his latest plans.

Severa, meanwhile placed the box down before her mother and leaped into her arms, hugging her tightly both out of gratitude and primordial fear. Cordelia, confused by this out of character action, nevertheless returned the hug in full force, savoring the feeling of resting her cheek on her daughter's head in comfort, regardless of what spurred it on.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucina walked in on Robin laying out and organizing his many maps and papers, equations and measurements scattered about to measure the logistical operations. Virion had gone to his own chambers not long before Lucina arrived, Robin still starting over a board of small white and black wooden figures, with many more black figures than white ones. Robin was so focused looking at the scene, he did not even notice Lucina entering.

"What is this?" she said.

Robin finally snapped awake, looking up at her. "Oh, this? It's merely a board game Virion and I came up with to practice my tactical prowess."

Lucina smiled. "Well, from the looks of things I'd say you showed him what you can do!"

Robin cringed somewhat hearing her remark. "You do know that I was playing as the white army, right?"

Lucina's smile fell. "Oh..."

"It's quite alright," Robin said. "I've grown quite used to getting my cloak handed to me when Virion and I play this game. Perhaps he should be the one planning our next campaign."

Lucina stepped closer. "He may have bested you on the board, but in the field, when lives are at stake with every move, you always know the right thing to do."

Robin sat in silence a moment. "Do I?" he said. "Do I really? Because I can think of a few mistakes..."

Lucina could see the hardened look in his eye. "If this is about what happened to Emmeryn, my father and I have told you many times that was not your fault."

Robin seemed to be unmoved, so Lucina moved in even closer. "What do I have to do to convince you of that?"

Robin looked up to her, a sad expression on his pale face. "I don't know. But...I wish I could see in my what you and your father see in me."

Lucina was not the best at these interactions, but she knew enough to know a man in need of a hug when she saw one. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Robin stood up, leaning into the hug as he reciprocated with his arms around her waist. She leaned back, seeing his pained expression soften somewhat, as she stared deep into his brown eyes, which contrasted so nicely with his white hair.

"It's not your fault, Robin," she said. "You are the only reason the Shepherds have stayed alive at all. We are counting on you, Robin. You cannot lose heart now. Not when we are so close." Robin smiled faintly at that, still looking into her face for a moment of silent comfort.

That was, until, the sound of a throat clearing went through the room.

Both turned to the source, a bashful Owain standing by the door, cheeks flushed, hands twiddling with themselves. "Uh, Chrom asked me to find Robin and tell him that he wanted a private meeting after dinner tonight," he said, still not making eye contact. Robin and Lucina, still half-hugging, quickly separated, and Robin grabbed a handful of papers, a goofy smile appearing on his own flushed cheeks. "Y-yes, of course!" he said, "Tell him I will be there the moment dinner is over."

Owain nodded and went out the door, but Lucina could not help but notice the look he gave her, one of embarrassment, far greater than the one he gave Robin. Lucina remembered well the reason for this, and could not help but think that perhaps she should just get things out in the open now before it became a serious problem.

...

Owain made his way quickly down the colonnade toward the old chateau. He rubbed his face trying to get the blush out, or at the very least, spread it around so it was not so painfully obvious. He looked passed the columns to see the rest of the camp getting dinner preparations ready, campfires lit and tents established. He faintly smelled the aroma of a roasted bear, a meat that he had had far too much of in his life if he had anything to say about it.

"Owain!" he heard, and immediately recognized his female, blue-haired cousin as the source. He supposed this conversation was going to happen at some point, but he wished he at least had a day to rehearse some lines first.

Lucina quickly caught up and stood by his side for a brief moment, neither quite knowing how to begin even when the topic was obvious. Lucina decided to start. "I'm sorry, Owain," she said. "I did not intend to spy on you and Inigo, I...heard music in the hall and went to see who was causing it."

Owain shifted uncomfortably, his blush exaggerated by the face-rubbing he had done earlier. "How much of it did you see?"

Now it was Lucina's turn to shift. "I heard you play that fast song. 'The fountains mingle,' or something along those lines."

Owain smiled. "That song was called 'Love's Philosophy.' I wrote the lyrics myself," he said, a clear note of pride in his voice, "and Inigo wrote the music."

"It is a beautiful song," she replied, "and you were quite good at playing it. How long has it been since you practiced?"

"Not since we got here from the future," he said.

"Then it was especially good for so little practice," she said, "And Inigo was..." she could not think of an adjective positive enough to describe it.

"Amazing?" Owain provided.

"Yes, amazing! I never knew he could sing like that, or that he composed."

"Verily, my dear Lucina!," Owain said, the theatrics finally creeping back into his voice. "He has the most impressive vocals, and his compositions are masterful. What you heard is only a fraction of what he has composed!"

"Truly?" she said, "I had no idea he was so prolific."

"Of course! This is a man serious in his craft! Take a look at these!" Owain reached into his leather bag, and pulled out a stack of papers. He shuffled past the first few, revealing an index page entitled, "The Compositions of Inigo, House of Ylisse by Opus Number," and a list of Opus numbers with titles after them:

Op. 1. _Two Songs_

Op. 2. _Three Lyrics of Prince Owain_

Op. 3. _Three Lyrics of Prince Inigo_

Op. 4. _Five Songs_

Op. 5. _Three Ylissean Dances_

Op. 6_. To Olivia_

Op. 7. _Eight Plegian Lyrics_

Op. 8. _Two September Songs_

Op. 9. _Music from 'Where the Rainbow Ends'_

Op. 10. _Two Sonnets on the War_

Op. 11. _Four Songs of Sorrow_

Op. 12. _Songs to the New World_

Lucina looked at all of them. Truthfully, she had no idea what an Opus was, but if Op. 7 had eight songs in it, she could only imagine how many the others had. She remembered what Inigo had said earlier. "Inigo said something about a song called 'The Reign of the Stars,'" she said, "Do you know anything about it?"

Owain flipped through the papers, pulling out a small stack of maybe six pages. On it a title read, written in legible but somewhat childish handwriting: _Two Songs, Op. 1. Two compositions by the Princes of Ylisse, Owain and Inigo._

"We were talking about music after our lesson one day, and decided to put together some songs!" Owain said. "The first one, 'Come Spring! Sweet Spring!' was my composition, both music and lyrics, while 'The Reign of the Stars' was his!"

"You each wrote one?" Lucina said, to which her cousin nodded. "Then, why did the index say 'compositions of Inigo?'"

"Ah that," he said, "It would appear that for all my proficiency at swordplay, piano, and poetry, I was not that good at composing songs myself. Inigo, however, could let the music flow from his pen, moving notes across the lined battlefield as masterfully as Robin moves the soldiers on his wargames." He turned to her. "In truth, I only composed the music for two songs: The one I just told you about, and the second 'Sonnet on the War,' Op. 10, No. 2."

Lucina watched his eyes sparkle in pride and power, mentally patting herself on the back for getting him started. He was now a running faucet of information, and Lucina decided to get as much as she could.

"While Inigo composed the music, I wrote the lyrics," Owain continued, "Some might argue that the poetry is just as important as the music in a song, and I wrote many lyrics for Inigo to set! The majority of them even! Though I must say, Inigo is quite the hidden talent! Not only are his compositions sublime, and his singing voice enthralling, but when he did feel the need to write his own poetry for the lyrics, I'm nearly ashamed to say they were as good as mine!"

Owain kept talking, and Lucina listened, taking it all in. Owain admitted that though he had cataloged all of Inigo's work thus far, he did not have all the manuscripts. He only had the ones whose poetry he had participated in, and the compositions Inigo had written himself, both instrumental and lyrical, were his alone. She gathered that Op. 3, Op. 5, Op. 7, Op. 9, and Op. 11 were not in Owain's possession, which gave Lucina serious doubts about just how much Owain was contributing to their joint operation. She kept such thoughts to herself as Owain continued, though when he seemed to be rambling about the power music and poetry had on the masses, and potentially using such masterful lyrics as a weapon of war, Lucina had to cut him off.

"Owain," she began, "If Inigo and you were so prolific, why didn't either of you tell me? Or anyone else for that matter?"

Owain looked somewhat sheepish. "Believe me," he said, "If I could have published our works for the world to see I would have, but Inigo...he's shy."

Lucina rolled her eyes. "I'm his sister, Owain. I know he's shy."

"I know, but it's like his dancing. He just keeps practicing until he thinks he's good enough which is never. He's expressed pride in a few pieces, but he thinks his singing is nothing more than mediocre, so he never sings them except to me."

"But, but that's stupid! He's a great singer! Possibly the best I have ever heard!" Granted there was not much competition, but still.

"I know that, and you know that. Unfortunately, he does not know that, and his feelings of mediocrity keep getting in the way!"

Lucina felt something new in her stomach at that. A feeling of anger and frustration, similar to all the times she had caught Inigo flirting with girls who were clearly not interested. "Owain," she said, "We need to go speak with Inigo."

"What?! Oh no, no, no!" he exclaimed, "If you confront him you might set him off!"

"Owain, think about it. The singing, the composing, the dancing, the poetry. Inigo has nothing he's willing to show the world."

"But, Lucina-"

"Don't you see? I've lived with him his whole life and I never knew what he could do! Do you know how angry that makes me? That he had these talents all this time and never showed me or even told me about them because he was afraid of being labeled 'mediocre?'"

Owain shifted as Lucina drew closer. "Inigo was the same way with sword fighting. My father and I had to give him a push to get out there and do it, even when he thought he wasn't good enough. I'm not going to sit by while he wastes his gifts doing nothing out of fear."

Owain considered her words, and while not fully convinced this was the smartest plan in the world, followed her again in the colonnade, where then went toward the east wing to find Inigo.


	6. Chapter 6

Inigo was in the east wing's study at a desk looking over a set of papers, each one with musical notes and lyrics written on them illuminated by a flickering candle. It had been so long since he had looked at these older pieces, he nearly forgot about them entirely. He considered leaving them behind when they went to the future, but Owain was adamant that these songs and compositions needed to be persevered at all costs, and personally helped him transcribe some songs in smaller print so that they took up less pages for travelling. However, Owain had not personally seen these ones. His eyes were glassed over as he looked at Op. 3, whose lyrics he composed at a far different time in his life, where possibilities had seemed endless and the shining sun over Ylisstol shined every day. Or, so it seemed in hindsight, for it certainly never shined once Grima came to power. The edges of his manuscripts were still stained with the rains that fell nearly every day before they went back in time. Or, did they go parallel in time to a different dimension. It was hard to know with certainty.

As Inigo shuffled the papers, wiping his eyes to ensure no tears stained the parts of the manuscripts that mattered, he heard a shuffle outside the room. He rose out of his chair slowly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Hello?" he called.

A moment passed before he saw who it was, a girl shorter than him with long red hair stepped into the doorway. Inigo squinted in the light that was still fading with the setting sun. "Severa?"

"Yes...hello," she said, her eyes rapidly shifting to different things in the room, pretty much everywhere except his eyes.

"Can I," he began, "help you with anything?"

Severa was now looking toward the ground, then at the desk that he was still standing beside. She saw the papers spread out, and noticed some musical notations. Finding her in, she found the courage to look a him directly. "What are you working on?" she said.

Inigo's eyes shifted the exposed manuscripts, and he tried to nonchalantly turn them over with his left hand. "Oh, nothing important."

Unfortunately, a stray paper separated from the rest, twirling in the still air above the desk. He reached out for it, but the air created by his waving hands only pushed the paper toward Severa, and it fell at her feet, the musical notes exposed.

"Don't look at that!" he said, sweat appearing by his temple. "I mean, that isn't mine, I was just holding it for Owain! I-"

He stopped as Severa picked up the paper and looked it over. She looked back at him, her eyes now displaying a scowl. "Holding them for Owain?" she said. "Why would Owain have a paper called 'Four Songs of Sorrow, Op. 11: Four Lyrical Compositions of Inigo, House of Ylisse?'"

Inigo's brain wracked itself against his skull trying to think of a coherent excuse. Finding none, he merely let out a sigh. "It's mine, alright," he said, "I used to compose music with Owain."

"Used to?" she replied. "When did you stop?"

Inigo shifted, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't...stop...I'm just, kinda, between songs."

She looked at the paper again. The only song displayed was the first one, a piece called "Spring Sorrow" She looked at him again. "Inigo?" He looked up, and Severa, biting her lip a bit, stepped closer and handed him the paper. He took it reluctantly. "I," she began, "can't actually read music. But, I would like to know what it sounds like."

Inigo, having nothing to hide now, turned the papers on the desk over and put the page in its proper place. "I'm afraid I wrote that song when I was fairly young, I think ten years old. It's not very good."

Severa looked over at the piano, and idea coming to her. "Well, there's a piano over there. Lucina told me you used to play all the time. Maybe you could show me?"

"She told you that?!" Inigo said, his face flushing prominently now. "Ugh, well I have to tell you that I'm not the best player. Owain has always done better than me in that regard."

Severa crossed her arms. "Well, that's fine. All you would have to do was sing along."

"I'm afraid I'm not a good singer either, really it wouldn't be that impressive."

Severa's mouth seemed to twitch in anger, her trademark scowl reappearing. "Don't say that."

Inigo looked at her, confused. "Don't say what?"

"Don't say you're not a good singer. Don't put yourself down like that."

"I'm only saying what is true, Severa."

"Don't pretend you can't sing!" she nearly screamed.

Now it was Inigo's turn to scowl. "And how would you now that I can sing? How do you know I don't sound like a knife on a rusty piece of metal?"

"Because I've heard you!" she said, her face immediately wincing. Well, cat's out of the bag now.

"What?!" Inigo shouted, "When?! When could you have heard me sing?!"

"In the tunnels that had the water baths," she said, "You were singing a song about June after Owain left, and I heard it."

Inigo, covered his face with his hands, and fell back into his chair. He stayed like that a moment, before finally letting his hands sink into his lap. He looked at her, and she grabbed her arms as she often did as she looked back. "Your singing was beautiful," she said.

Inigo stayed motionless for a moment, and Severa walked over to the piano and uncovered the keys. "And I'd like to hear it again."

Inigo looked her up and down, looking for any insincerity or opportunity to mock him. Nevertheless, he stood up with an exasperated sigh. "If I say no, you won't give up will you?"

Severa then smirked. "No, if you say no, I'm going to tell everyone in camp that you can sing, and I'm going to set the expectations so high then when you finally _do_ sing, they will be disappointed, even if it's the best you can do."

Inigo looked at her in horror. "You wouldn't!"

Severa gave a challenging grin. "Try me."

Inigo looked around, his fingers twiddling, before finally saying "Alright, alright. But, if I sing for you, you can never tell another soul."

"And why not?"

"Because a lot of my songs are personal, written for me and no one else. These ones especially. And even the ones that a wrote for the public, I'm...I'm just not ready to let everyone hear them. They're not polished, not extraordinary."

Severa thought about the lyrics to "June," and his hummed instrumental. "Yeah," she said, "I can see that. That June song's lyrics were a bit flowery."

Inigo had to grin at that. "Actually, those were Owain's lyrics."

Severa grinned even wider. "Owain writes poetry?"

"He's actually quite good at it. I've written instrumentals for many of his tracks."

Severa said nothing, merely waiting with a smirk, then nodding her head toward the piano. Inigo sighed again. "Just let me make sure we're alone," he said. He walked over to the door, looking up and down the hallway and seeing nobody, he closed the door to the study and walked over to the desk again. He grabbed the manuscript and walked over to the piano, placing the score on the music stand. Taking a deep breath, he began the opening notes to the opening song, "Spring Sorrow."

_"All suddenly the wind comes soft,  
__And Spring is here again;  
__And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green  
__And my heart with buds of pain."_

...

Inigo and Owain finally made it to the right hallway in the east wing, the old chateau truly a labyrinth in scope and size. They walked down the hallway to the study, where Owain said he had left Inigo not long after they caught Lucina spying. Owain, for his part, still looked rather nervous. "I'm telling you Lucina, perhaps we should-"

"Shh!" Lucina demanded. Owain was taken aback, before realizing that Lucina was taking more careful steps, and Owain heard the sound of piano music. Was Inigo practicing again already? When Lucina and Owain were at the door, both heard the sound of his voice, slightly muffled by the door, but no less majestic as it toyed with their eardrums.

_"My heart all Winter lay so numb,  
__The Earth so dead and frore  
__That I never thought the Spring would come,  
__Or my heart wake any more."_

"Is this one of yours?" Lucina asked. Owain merely shook his head. He had not heard this one before.

_"But Winter's broken and Earth has woken  
__And the small birds cry again.  
__And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,  
__And my heart puts forth its pain."_

The music came to a stop, and Lucina, taking a breath as she reached for the handle, heard the sound of her brother's voice again. "So, how was it?"

Lucina and Owain's eyebrows rose as they heard a female voice respond, sounding constricted and choked. "It was amazing," she said simply.

"I'm glad you thought so. Personally, I always thought it was the weakest of the set."

"How did you come to write it?" Now the voice was clear to the eavesdroppers. _'Severa?!'_ they both thought.

Inigo paused for a moment. "It was right as the war was beginning to start. It was winter, and everything was dark and cold. I guess I was, and I know this sounds pretentious, just waiting for spring to come."

"Is that what all the songs are about? In this set I mean."

"No..." he said, shuffling though the manuscript. "I wrote 'Autumn Evening' after my mother passed, and I wrote 'A Land of Silence' and "Passing Dreams' right before we left for the past."

"Maybe I could, I don't know, hear the rest of the set?" Severa said hopefully.

"I...I can't. It's...too personal. Too soon."

"Perhaps some other songs then, some other time? Maybe something Owain wrote?"

"Yeah, that would be fine."

The sound of shuffling and movement, put both eavesdroppers on edge, thinking maybe this was their cue to leave, and after a silent conversation with their eyes, they agreed to do so.

Severa walked toward the door, pausing before she reached the handle. "Did it ever come?" she asked. He gave no reply. "The spring? Did it ever come?"

Inigo paused. "Yes."

"When?"

"When we came to this world. When I saw Lucina smile again."

Oh, that was something. Something Severa was far too tired emotionally to think about now, but it was _something_. "Goodnight, Inigo."

"Goodnight, Severa." She opened the door and took a step out.

"Severa?" he said.

She finally looked back at him, and his glassy eyes were offset by a small grin. "Thank you."

Severa couldn't stop herself from smiling back. "Yeah, whatever." She walked back down the hallway, not noticing the blue and blond-haired nobles hiding around a corner.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was shining that morning as Inigo stepped out of his tent. Though the chateau probably had enough rooms for everyone, it was a temporary shelter and base of operations, and Chrom was careful not to let anyone get too comfortable in its scattered luxuries, much to Lissa's indignation. Inigo, however, was used to sleeping in a tent and on the ground, and last night he had slept even better than usual. That thought surprised him, considering that Severa hearing his compositions was an idea that made his heart beat quicken and his palms sweat. Yet, as he breathed the dew-filled air of the quiet morning, he felt a feeling of liberation. Somebody other than Owain, who thought that everything the Ylissean Royal Family did was magnificent (especially if Owain himself was involved) had heard his music and complimented him. In fact, his music had very nearly driven her to tears if his memory served him. While normally the sight of a woman crying over something he did was his worst nightmare, to know it was for something beautiful and positive was a welcome change of pace.

Of course, having agreed to perform more of his work for her in the future, perhaps he should continue writing songs in this future? After all, twelve opus numbers (the last of which not even finished) was a pitiful output for someone of his age. Exalt Felix, one of the few ancestors Inigo remembered in the royal line, was a prolific composer himself. By the age of twelve, he produced _twelve_ string symphonies, and in his life of 38 years had produced 121 opus numbers of work, alongside a large collection of unfinished sketches and early juvenilia. All Inigo had now, at the age of 14 and a half, was a handful of songs and incidental music to a play that Owain was not even finished writing. Yet, something about Severa's reaction made him think he could do better. Today, after his required work with the Shepherds, wherever he found the time, he would begin to write again. Perhaps he could see if Owain had any ideas for poetry. It was always easier to work off of something than create from scratch.

...

Lucina's awakening did not much resemble her brother's. Her long blue hair, while still as beautiful as ever, frayed at the ends, and her eyes and posture painted a picture of a rough night of tossing and turning. Owain had forcefully suggested that they regroup with the new revelation about Severa and Inigo, and Lucina, still dazed and confused, let him have his way. Feeling the light of the sun burn her retinas on this morning that came too soon (or not soon enough maybe), Lucina was regretting that decision immensely.

She wandered to her brother's tent to finally get this weight she could not describe off her chest, but to her absolute shock, she found it empty. Inigo was _never_ the first to be awake, and it was still far to early. Wasn't it? Lucina checked the sky again, still barely above the horizon. It was early morning alright. Nobody should be up except the posted watchmen, Frederick, and herself. She ran her fingers through her hair in thought, and failing to come up with anything (as seemed to become the norm with her brother recently), she went to breakfast instead, hoping something warm would wake her up out of her haze.

...

"Are you alright, Lucina?" Lissa asked, "You seem tense. More so than usual."

Lucina rubbed her eyes and took a sip of hot water she asked her aunt for earlier. "It's nothing serious, Lissa. Do not let my worries bother you."

"Well, if they're your worries, than they probably should be bothering me," she said, stirring around onions in a hanging pot, "You're the most level-headed person in this camp. If you're worried about something, it must be serious."

Lucina shifted in her seat. Was it that serious? "Lissa," she started, "Has Owain ever told you about...anything involving music?"

Lissa cocked her head to one side. "Music? Like what?"

Lucina twisted the cup in her had. "About how he...used to play the piano in the future?"

Lissa's eyes sparkled in recognition. "Oh, that! Yes, he told me all about it. He used to write lyrics for Inigo to compose music to. Then, he would play the music while Inigo sang."

Lucina nearly dropped her cup. "When, did he tell you all that?"

"Just last night. He said something about how you and him overheard Inigo at work composing something new on the piano in the study."

Lucina looked down in her cup, whose steam continued to gently waft up into the air. It was a comforting sight in most circumstances, and Lucina stared at it hoping that comfort might come soon.

"Lucina?" Lissa asked, "what's the matter?"

Lucina looked back at her. "I...I just can't believe he told you this so readily," she finally said.

"I don't understand. Was it supposed to be a secret?" Lissa replied.

"Well...not exactly...I mean..."

"Wait!" Lissa nearly shouted, "Was it a song for someone in particular?"

"I don't..."

"Was it a _love_ song," Lissa's voice took on a teasing tone, "perhaps for a _secret crush_?"

Lucina's cheeks flushed red, "It's nothing of the sort! I'm sure he had a very good reason for singing that song to Severa!"

Lissa's jaw dropped in surprise for a moment, before her face brightened up like the Plegian Desert's sun. "He was singing to _Severa_! Owain never told me that part! _That's so sweet_!"

A silent prayer for the ground itself to swallow her up escaped Lucina's mind. "Lissa, I promise you that the song was not specifically for Severa. She was just listening to him sing it. It was a song about winter turning into spring, not at all romantic." Granted, it was more heartfelt than that, but Lucina was still technically correct.

Lissa hummed in thought, a finger on her chin. "Then why would Inigo let Severa hear his music? From what Owain tells me Inigo is quite particular about who he lets hear him sing."

Lucina had no answer for that, '_which is really the root of the problem isn't it_,' she thought ruefully. What could have led Severa to get Inigo to sing? From what little of their conversation she overheard, it didn't sound like a particularly romantic moment between them. Then again, Lucina was far from the best judge of romance. She never found the time for such things, and as far as she could remember, no one had ever made an attempt to educate her firsthand.

"Though, I have to be honest," Lissa continued, "if there is something going on between the two of them, I think it would be a nice match."

"W-why would you think that?"

Lissa looked at Lucina as if she was the most oblivious person in the world. "Duh, opposites attract! Severa's so icy and walled-off, but she can speak her mind to anyone. Inigo's so cheery and optimistic, but he's too shy like his mother to actually be open to the world. They are perfect for each other!"

"I find that very hard to believe, Lissa. They are not at all compatible. Not like my parents, or you and Gaius."

"How can someone so well-travelled be so naive?!" Lissa said. She opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly began sniffing the air. Lucina, confused, did the same, and both realized a plume of black smoke coming from the pan. "Oh no! The onions!" Lissa said, racing to pull them out of the pan. Fortunately, onions were plentiful even in an army camp that rationed everything, so it was no great loss. Nevertheless, Lucina took this as her cue to drink her water in one final gulp, appreciating the burn down her throat as she quickly left the scene.

...

Severa was walking away from her mother's tent, a cup of tea in her hand as she looked at the camp slowly stirring awake as the sun was now entirely above the horizon. Her mother was organizing everything once again for the day, going over everything again and again as was usual for her. Of all the army, only Frederick and perhaps Robin had more knowledge of the camp's personnel, supplies, and habits. Cordelia was not a woman to let anything go unnoticed, which is why she watched her daughter leaving with a careful eye. Ever since she had run into Cordelia's arms, Cordelia had been keeping watch on her temperamental daughter. It only raised her suspicion when Severa came home the previous night with a grin on her face, and spoke not one word of complaint or displeasure to herself or Gregor that whole evening or the following morning. Something was definitely wrong with Severa's behavior, but Cordelia for the life of her could not figure it out, though she made a commitment to try.

Severa was unaware of her mother's concerns, merely keeping her content gaze on the goings on of the camp, until a gloved hand tapped her shoulder, and she turned around to see the blond head of Owain sheepishly smiling back at her. "Severa!" he said, "Hey, what's...up?"

Severa raised an eyebrow. "Nothing, why?"

"Well, I was just, in the area, and I thought I'd stop by and, uh, see how you were doing."

"Pretty well, actually."

"That's good! I'm, uh, I'm doing well, given the circumstances, and I, uh, am glad that you..." Owain trailed off.

Severa's signature frown returned. "Owain, what is this about?"

"About? Nothing, can a man not go to his fellow comrade and inquire about her wellbeing?"

Severa could see the sweat forming on his brow. "_Owain_," she said, like a parent about to scold their child, "what are you hiding?"

"I-I am hiding nothing!" he said, a forced smile on his face, "Forsooth!"

"_Owain_," she said again, stepping closer, the steam from her tea nearly reaching Owain's chin, "I know you well enough to know when you are lying to me."

Owain said nothing, and Severa let out a sigh. "If you won't tell me, I'll just have to get it from your mother," she said.

"What?!" he shouted, "I-I mean, h-how would she even know if I was holding a secret?"

"You tell her _everything_, Owain. It would be endearing if it wasn't so pathetic. Now spill it."

Owain put his fingers together in a motion resembling a scared child lost in indecision, and for a moment Severa actually felt bad. However, she made a motion to walk away, not even in Lissa's general direction, when Owain raced ahead with a speed she did not think was even possible.

"Alright, alright! I'll tell you!" he said, and Severa crossed her arms. Her scowl was unchanged, but an internal smile of self-satisfaction was warm in her soul. "I," he began, "Well, Lucina and I, we...overheard Inigo singing to you."

Severa's heart dropped, and her scowl transformed to a look of surprised anger. "You were spying on me?!"

"No! I-I mean, not intentionally, I-"

Owain was cut off by the throw of a cup of tea that missed his head and shattered on the ground, spilling its contents. "Severa, wait! I can explain!" he said.

"Oh, you are going to explain," she said, a rising fury in her voice, "in fact, you are going to explain in the next ten seconds, or I will rip off your arms."

"C-Come on," Owain said with a nervous smile, "you wouldn't actually-"

He was cut off by Severa grabbing both his arms in a steel grip that seemed to instantly cut off circulation. "_Eight, seven, six_-"

"Okay!" he shouted, "I'll tell you everything!"


	8. Chapter 8

Inigo was at the highest point of the chateau, a small octagonal room with glass on every side that sat atop the center building of the complex. Inigo's brain was trying to remember what such a feature was called. _Cupola_ sounded right, but for some reason _pergola_ did as well, and he could not get the word _rotunda_ out of his mind either. He looked out through the glass, which gave him a 360 degree view of the whole complex, as well as miles outside of it. The camp was coming alive in earnest now, and virtually everyone was awake, except perhaps Gaius. The sun was now rising in the sky, and Inigo guessed it was mid-morning.

Normally, Inigo would only just be coming awake, and would grumpily march at Lucina's behest to breakfast, which he never cared for anyway. Today, however, Inigo was looking for inspiration. Owain was not in his tent, and given that this quiet morning would only last so long before a risen or Frederick's need for punctuality would get things moving again, Inigo decided to go to the quietest place he could imagine to think. Thus, here he was in the cupola (or pergola, or rotunda). The view was spectacular, but Inigo felt it was more befitting of a painting than a song. And whatever Severa's words, painting was one talent Inigo definitely did _not_ have.

He looked over his papers, the blank whiteness staring back at him in anticipation. A small quill with ink bottle sat beside him on the ground, waiting for use. The conditions were right, but nothing was happening. With a frustrated sigh, he looked out the window again, noticing the shadow that cast itself over the courtyard. The cupola (or whatever) cast a distinct shadow, and given the room's size, part of the shadow was Inigo's body. Inigo moved his arms around, and saw the shadow move with him, enlarged by the sun but still the correct shape. He lifted a hand with two fingers extended, and shadow Inigo was then holding a small rabbit, whose ears twitched and perked up. He smiled at the sight, before his eyes caught another.

A head of blue hair was walking by, her walk focused and deliberate, and she was walking right underneath where the cupola, and by proxy Inigo, were casting their shadows. Getting an idea, a childish grin appeared on Inigo's lips as he crossed his thumbs and extended his fingers like wings. He flapped them like the wings of a bird as Lucina walked underneath, moving them swiftly over her being before ducking down. As he peered back up, his sister was inspecting her surroundings, her hand on the Falchion, and an adorably confused look on her face. Not raising his torso, and keeping his head as low as he could while still being able to see her, he raised his hands again, the faux bird fluttering before leaving again. This time, Lucina followed the shadow to its source, and Inigo lifted himself up to be visible, giving her a wave with his hand. She looked up at him, her face of confusion turning to one of recognition, and she changed her course to head to the chateau's center building, which he currently stood atop.

As he was considering descending to meet her, he was startled by the crash of a bird against the glass of the cupola. He went over to that pane, undamaged aside from a smudge, as a blackbird flapped and clattered around on the roof trying to regain its footing. It turned itself over on its feet, its black eye staring at Inigo as it fluttered up to the glass again, resting on a small ledge on the roof of the cupola, though Inigo could still see its tail feathers. The blackbird, evidently content with his new perch, sung out a brief birdsong, a simple melody that climbed up the scale and back down again. Evidently getting no reply from his mate, he let it out again, then again, and again. The same simple series of chirps were clearly audible to Inigo, and like daybreak after a storm at sea, Inigo got an idea. He quickly grabbed his quill and papers, and pressed the paper against the glass as close to the blackbird as he could, before the quill scratched in some notes that followed the birdsong through its loving call.

...

Lucina made her way up the stairs toward where she imagined the entrance to the cupola was. 'I should have done this sooner,' Lucina thought. 'If I would have just talked with him when all I heard was his singing. Now I have to talk with him about that _and_ Severa. What do I even say?' She walked up several flights of stairs before reaching the top floor, finding access to the cupola (or so she thought it was called) in the form of a metal ladder in a similarly shaped octagonal room just below it. Grabbing a rung, she looked up to see the hole in the floor of the cupola unobstructed, but could hear something coming from the room. As she climbed up, she realized it was humming. Inigo's humming.

She poked her head up, seeing her brother still pressed up against the glass, a bottle of ink precariously balanced on his elbow as his quill scratched a series of notes and signatures that to Lucina might as well have been a foreign language. She climbed up further, allowing the Falchion to rattle in its sheath to get his attention, which succeeded as he put the quill back in the inkwell, and placed both it and the paper delicately on the ground.

Both siblings raised themselves to stand up fully, making eye contact briefly, but saying nothing. Realizing she went out of her way to see him, Lucina decided to go first. "What are you working on?" she asked.

Inigo shifted in place, looking down at the papers on the ground. "You know, there was a blackbird singing up here," he said, "and I thought it could make a nice opening to a song."

Lucina eyed him carefully. "I didn't realize you were such a songwriter."

Inigo cocked his head slightly. "Well, I...I try."

"Inigo," she began, "I'm sorry for listening in while you and Owain were singing that song. It was not my intention to spy."

Inigo simply shrugged. "It's no big deal."

Lucina's eyes widened. "Truly? I imagined you would be more embarassed."

"You're my sister, Lucina. What could I be embarrassed about?"

Lucina was internally screaming an objection. Where did he get the _nerve_ to be so nonchalant? "But...you never like anyone to watch you dance! And Owain said you don't let anyone watch you sing except him!"

Inigo finally averted his gaze. "I don't like showing what's not finished, Lucina. I'm not proud of much of my work, but I can at least say that 'Love's Philosophy' is finished so far."

Lucina looked him over, a long pause passing between them. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Inigo re-established eye contact. "What?"

"About your singing; your songwriting; any of it. You were doing this with Owain all this time and...and you never told me."

Inigo's face gave a nervous grin. "Lucy, I've sung in front of you before."

"What? No, never! I would remember hearing your voice."

Inigo stepped closer, his branded eye staring back into her own, his eyes squinted in study. "What are you doing?" she asked.

His gaze softened. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Though her brother was an inch taller, she stood as tall as she could. "Are you implying I could just _forget_ something like this? I would forget the most beautiful voice I've ever heard singing the most beautiful music I've ever heard, and forget that my brother was the source?"

Inigo stepped back, a blush forming under his eyes at the harshly delivered praise. Inigo's mouth opened slightly, a low, careful voice sliding between his lips. "I don't know if you forgot. But, I do know I sung in front of you." He shifted himself to the center of the room. "When me and Owain first started composing, we had a competition. Our first opus number was going to be one song with lyrics and music by Owain, the other with lyrics and music by me."

Lucina remembered Owain showing her the first opus number. They each did one song. Yet, she said nothing as Inigo continued.

"I couldn't think of anything, and in a moment of desperation, I turned to mother for help. She was with father at the time, and they both came to me and tried to help me out. I thought mother would know a thing or two about singing or music, but in an ironic twist, father was far better at both pursuits."

Lucina had to stop him there. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, "I know this is a dream or something you had. Father was a swordsman and a leader. He never...does not have the talent for graceful pursuits like mother did...does."

Inigo gave a knowing smile. "I never thought so either! Yet, when I told him the dilemma, he tried to help me out. He sung that old folk song, 'I Have Twelve Oxen,' and told me to try to change it to give it a different feeling. I played for what seemed like hours. Then, when they left me alone that night, I saw the stars in the black sky through a window, and I remembered father's advice to give it '_feeling_.' I stayed up almost all night until Frederick found me, and I composed my first song."

Lucina spoke without even realizing it. "The Reign of the Stars."

Inigo smiled brightly. "See? You even remember the name of the song! You were there for the big debut the next day."

Lucina shook her head. "No, I wasn't there. I don't remember any of this."

Inigo's smile vanished. "But, you must remember! Everyone was there to hear it! Mother, father, Lissa, Gaius, even Robin. You _must_ have been there, where else could you have been?"

Lucina's calloused hands ran over the hilt of Falchion. "I...I don't..." She looked back at him, her eyes somewhat glossy, "Are...are you _sure_ I was there? You remember _seeing_ me specifically?"

"Well, I mean..," his hand reached into his hair, "...I think...No, no you had to be there, you were standing behind...no that was...I..." His words trailed into silence.

Both blue-haired nobles stood in complete silence. Minutes passed, Inigo's blue eyes taking on the same glossy sheen as his sister's. "I...thought for sure..." Inigo started, but did not finish.

Lucina closed her eyes. "I never heard," she said, "and I don't know why."

"I'm...I'm so sorry," he said.

"No," she said, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What for?"

"You're my younger brother, Inigo. I should have made and effort to keep an eye on you, to see what you were doing all this time."

Inigo's eyes went to the glass. "Nobody can blame you, especially not me. You had other things on your mind, like keeping us all alive."

"But, this was before...everyone was still there, I still had the time, I could have-"

"You're doing it again," Inigo interrupted.

Lucina looked at him, and he stepped closer. "You're doing that thing we talked about. You're blaming yourself for things that are not your problem or concern."

Lucina opened her mouth to speak but, Inigo's finger shot up to silence her, pressed firmly on her lips. "Whatever you were doing not listening to me and Owain, it helped make you who you are. And who you are is the only reason I can keep working on my music, and my dances, and my swordplay." He leaned in closer. "Thanks to you, and only you, I have a second chance. What more could I ever ask for than that?"

He removed his finger, seeing her eyes still shine, her shoulder's weighed down with a weight Inigo could only pretend he was helping to bear. Desperate for any kind of levity, his forced a smile again. "If nothing else, think of all the women whose worlds have been brightened by your work!" He stepped back, his hands in a flourish. "By bringing me back, countless maidens across Ylisse have known, if only for a moment, what it truly is to love, charmed by my impeccable talents."

Lucina's cheeks fought the smile, but lost as a cascade of laughs escaped her. Olivia's 'entertainer's pride' seeped through Inigo as he applauded himself silently for his work. He had made his sister laugh, and unlike usual, he did not even have to resort to tickling to make it happen.

"Y-your imagination is to be admired," she choked out between laughs, "no wonder you and Owain are so close."

Inigo clasped both hands on his heart. "You wound me, woman. I'll have you know the only reason you are immune to my charms is the fact that we are blood relatives." He reached out, lifting her chin to look her in the eyes. "If you were some village maiden, you would be swooning over me."

Lucina smile turned to a smirk of challenge. "Even if I was a maiden, mother always told me I was too pretty to settle."

Inigo turned to the side dismissively. "Relax sweetheart, you're like a six at best."

He was rewarded with a swift, hard punch to the arm, and he backed away toward the glass. "So," he said, grinning, "it's a fight you want?"

Lucina's arm rested on the Falchion. "You might have many talents, Inigo, but I know I still outperform you in fighting."

"You forgot one crucial thing, _Lucy_," he said, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers, "I have no intention of fighting fair."

Lucina's eyes widened, smile gone, and she stepped back. "No! Get that thing away from me!"

He stepped closer, like a shark to its prey. "You may have gotten father's fighting skills, but that's not all you inherited."

Lucina turned to race down the ladder, but Inigo grabbed her with both arms around her waist and pulled her back, landing both of them on the floor as his fingers, nimble from piano practice, went to work on her armpits and neck. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!" he shouted.

"No! I-Inigo!" she yelled in between laughter.

...

"And that's the whole story, I swear!" Owain said, his face red from talking so long.

Severa pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let me get this straight," she said, "you thought I had feelings for Inigo because I listened to him sing."

Owain scratched the back of his head. "I mean, it's not the most unreasonable assumption. Why would he sing to you of all people?"

Severa stepped closer. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Owain took and exaggerated step back. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" he said, "we were just confused why he picked you instead of me, or Lucina, or anyone else to play that song to. How did you even know he could sing?"

Severa tried to hide the rising blush as she closed her eyes and crossed her arms. "I overheard him singing to himself, and I wanted to hear it again. Gods, is that so wrong?" Severa opened her eyes again, a vicious scowl at Owain as she grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the chateau. "You are coming with me."

"Hold on! Where are we going?!" Owain said.

"I am not going to let Lucina hack me to pieces because she thinks I'm lusting after her brother. We're going to find her, and set the record strait."

"Can't we at least do this after breakfast-ow, my arm!"

...

Severa and Owain headed into the central building of the chateau, while Inigo and Lucina headed down the stairs. Lucina's face was still flush thanks to her tickling, but her smile was genuine as she walked with her brother to camp again. Inigo, for his part, was happy. They walked down a hallway towards the main corridor, when they heard some slight yelling from a young man.

"What was that?" Lucina asked, hand on the Falchion.

"I'm not sure," Inigo replied, hand on his sword.

At the sound of a loud "Ow!" both siblings turned to each other and spoke simultaneously their thought: "Owain." They rushed toward the corner where he was surely behind, but stopped just at the edge when they heard Severa's voice on the other end.

"Will you stop fighting me?!" she said, apparently through gritted teeth. The siblings simply looked at each other.

"I just don't understand what the big deal is! I'm sure Lucina won't be angry when hears about you and Inigo's night together."

"Don't phrase it like that! What if someone heard you say that?!" Severa's eyes were alight with anger, looking almost as red as her hair. "The whole camp will be talking about how '_Inigo and Severa got together one night in the study_,'" she said, heightening her voice to imitate a gossipy girl, "They'll say things like, '_well _I_ heard that they've been together for almost _two months_, they've been keeping it a _real_ secret!_'"

"Uh, Severa," Owain stammered.

"Can you imagine if that kind of talk got back to Chrom and Olivia, or my parents?! What about Lucina?!"

"Severa-"

"After that whole speech she made about looking out for her brother, what's she going to do if she hears he and I are in a relationship?! Then what, Owain?!"

Owain said nothing as he merely pointed behind her, and Severa's light brown eyes opened wide as she felt a chill up her neck. She closed her eyes with a sigh. "She's right behind me, isn't she."

Owain could only nod as Severa heard a sword unsheathing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chrom and Cordelia were standing on the terrace before the main door of the chateau. Though all the windows were clear, the rose window that sat atop the door and the smaller windows that sat on either side of it cast their designs in morning light on the gray stone tiles. Robin was not yet ready for the final meeting before the scouts would be sent ahead to survey the landscape for the next move, and both stood silently in the slightly chilly morning air, watching the dew evaporate silently off the potted plants nearby.

Cordelia took a breath with closed eyes, the cool air feeling good on her lungs. Her worries for her daughter's well-being had not improved yet, and she still could not figure out just why her daughter had acted so strange last night and this morning. She wanted dearly to just find Severa and ask outright, but to say that she and her future daughter were on good enough terms for that kind of conversation would be a gross mis-evaluation.

She looked over at Chrom in the same way she always did. He was her superior, her lord, and in some ways her savior, though her duty was to protect him. She remembered so desperately a time where she desired to become his wife, not to rule by his side or to create a dynasty, but to simply be with him at all hours of the day. Her cheek flushed with a tinge of embarrassment, and a touch of regret, remembering how she solicited advice from Gregor for how to win his heart.

Why did he choose Olivia out of everyone? Someone he met so late in his life, someone from a foreign land, someone so different in personality? Even though she could say she truly loved Gregor and would not change a thing about the current situation, a part of her mind would nag her forever. What did he see in Olivia that he never saw in her?

As she looked upon Chrom, she thought of his children. With a note of envy, she thought of Lucina. Chrom probably never had to worry about the mood swings and irritability that seemed to follow Severa around like a plague. How lucky he must be to have a child who inherited all of his strength of character and leadership. Out of everyone in the Shepherds, she was definitely the most levelheaded, reasonable, respect-

_"You cherry-haired harlot!"_ a yell called out.

A metal chair sailed through the window to the left of the front door, loudly clattering with the broken glass on the gray tiles. Chrom and Cordelia, both on sheer instinct, drew their swords as the front door of the chateau burst open, and Cordelia's eyes flashed in concern as she saw Severa and Owain running with a full sprint as they both clamored behind the adults, Severa directly behind her mother. Both looked in disbelief as Lucina, with a fire in her eyes nobody present had ever seen before, raced out of the door, Falchion in hand, stopping only when she saw her father standing there with Owain cowering behind him.

"Lucina!" Chrom yelled, more out of concern than anger, "what is going on here?!"

All except Lucina turned their attention toward the door again, as Inigo, hands on his knees and sweat on his brow, wheezed heavily in the doorway. He looked up through his sweat, his voice cracking in exhaustion._ "H-how,"_ he said, _"are you all so fast?"_

Lucina, gaze still transfixed on the red-haired teenager standing behind her mother, spoke as though she had not broken a sweat. "Is this something else you thought I already knew, _brother_?" she said.

"W-what?" Inigo wheezed out.

"Inigo," Chrom said, "what is happening? What's wrong?"

"It's quite simple, father," Lucina began. She leveled her sword toward Severa, and Cordelia tensed up, raising hers. "She has been courting my brother for over two months, and lied directly to my face about doing so."

_"What?!"_ both parents yelled, Cordelia not taking her eyes off Lucina, but Chrom turning wholly towards Severa.

"That's not true!" Severa shouted back, "I was speaking in a hypothetical! I've _never_ seen your brother like that!"

"Your lies know no end!" Lucina said, "I thought Lissa's suggestion was ludacris, but now I see clearly. All your questions to me, the night you two spent in the study, it all makes sense!"

"Lucina," Inigo said, swallowing heavily and still panting, "You don't know what you are talking about."

Lucina then turned to Inigo and said, "You were singing to her! Owain told me you never sing in front of anyone!"

Inigo looked taken aback. "How did you know that?"

Now it was Lucina's turn to look a bit disconcerted. "Owain and I were going to talk to you, and we overheard you singing to her."

"Wait," Chrom said, "you sing?"

Inigo wiped some of the sweat off his forehead. "That's not the issue right now, father!" He stepped toward his sister, his hands outstretched in a pleading gesture. "Lucina, I know I have a reputation, but I can assure you that I am not courting Severa, nor her courting me. I never have been."

Severa, with the confidence one finds when an elite soldier is one's shield, called out, "Listen to him! We're telling the truth."

Lucina looked into his brother's eyes, the Falchion no longer outstretched, but her stance still determined. "Then why were you singing to her?" she asked.

Inigo broke eye contact, looking at his father and cousin, then Severa. Nobody said a word, everyone seemingly curious for the answer. He let out a sigh. "She overheard me singing a song called 'June' in the cave systems we stopped at not long ago."

Owain's eyes flashed with recognition. "Opus 2, Number 1," he said quietly with pride.

"Yes, thank you, Owain," Inigo said.

Owain turned somewhat conspiratorially toward Severa, "I wrote the lyrics myself."

"Yes, _thank you, Owain_," Inigo repeated, turning toward his cousin angrily. He turned back to Lucina. "She liked the way it sounded, and wanted to hear more, so I obliged. Is that such a crime?"

Lucina looked back toward Severa, seeing two brown eyes that had lost their fear, and the eyes of her father and family friend looking at her. She began to feel a growing sense of shame, as the Falchion's blade touched the tiles as her arms went limp. "So," she began slowly, "you never were courting her?"

"No," Inigo said, "That's what I've been trying to tell you. I would _never_ ask Severa to do something like that."

"You wouldn't?" Lucina said. It took her a moment to realize the same question also escaped Cordelia's mouth.

Inigo looked at Cordelia, then back to Lucina, then Severa. He paused for an uncomfortable moment. Before looking toward the ground. "No. I would not. Not ever."

"And just_ why not?"_ Severa asked, her arms crossing.

Inigo clenched his fists as a few drops of sweat came down his nose. Whether they were from the running Lucina was no longer sure.

_"Prince Inigo,"_ Cordelia said, "I believe my daughter asked you a question."

Severa had to raise and eyebrow at that. She had not heard her mother (at least in this timeline) speak like that. It sent a strange feeling to her chest, compounded by the strange feeling that Inigo's lack of explanation was giving her.

"I already told you I would not." Inigo said, eyes still cast down. His frame began to slightly shake.

Chrom looked between one of his most competent warriors and his son, his own discomfort growing. As he looked at the mother and daughter duo, he realized just how much they looked alike. When they scowled like both were right now, they looked almost identical. He cleared his throat and said, "Inigo, I don't believe that answered her question."

"Why wouldn't you?" Severa asked angrily. Inigo's frame shook even more.

Lucina looked at her brother, "Inigo, why-"

_"__Because__ she deserves better!"_ came the reply, Inigo snapping his head up toward the redhead and her mother, teeth bared in rage.

Both women lost their scowl, and even Lucina took a step back in mild fear. Within a few seconds, Inigo realized the look he must have on his face and how hard he was breathing. More than that, he realized what he had said. His fists relaxed, and his face softened to one nobody there could decipher. He let out a shaky breath and looked towards the ground.

"That's it," he said, voice barely above a low growl, "I'm done." He began to walk toward the front door, and Lucina reached out her left hand to grab his shoulder.

"Inigo," she began. But, she was interrupted by a rough shake of the shoulder she tried to grab, and Inigo turned back to her, his eyes glassy, but filled with a seriousness and anger that looked so out of place on the normally carefree man. He raised a finger toward her and said simply, _"Don't,"_ then turned to the still open door and, grabbing the handle, slammed it shut behind him. The remaining parties stood in complete silence.


	10. Chapter 10

"...and that's what happened," Lucina said, her eyes cast down upon the ground.

Chrom stood with his arms crossed in one of the many bedrooms of the chateau, his wife sitting upon the bed, both looking at their daughter as she recounted the events that lead up to the outburst on the terrace. Olivia's face was one of concern, but Chrom's was graced with a seriousness that was not often seen outside of tense situations. In way, this was a tense situation. His daughter, who had built up a reputation of being the level-headed, responsible guardian for all the children that made their way back in time, had nearly maimed one of her comrades in a rage over her brother's love life. Given...recent events...there was little time or patience for something like this.

"Lucina," Olivia began, "what on Earth could have possessed you to do something like that?"

"You...you and father told me to watch over Inigo," she replied, "I took that to mean both on and off the battlefield."

Olivia stood up from the bed, "That is true," she said, "but, what does that have to do with Inigo and Severa? What did you think you were protecting him from?"

Lucina opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again. She had an answer of course. She had made it clear during the confrontation. But, to say it again knowing what she now knew, it seemed too _foolish_ to utter. "I," she said, "I don't know."

Chrom took a step forward toward his daughter, his arms still crossed, his face still serious. Yet, there was something in his gait that betrayed his true feelings, a softness in his step that did not express the anger his body language portrayed. "Lucina," he said, "your mother asked you a question."

Lucina looked at him with a note of surprise, but took a sigh and resigned herself to her fate. "I...I was worried," she began, "Inigo is...sensitive. He speaks often of love and women as if he has experience, but in true matters of the heart...well...I fear that his judgement may not be adequate."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Olivia said, "you attacked Severa because you thought she was not worthy?"

"No! I..." Lucina said, but she understood then how that impression got made. No wonder Severa was so upset. "I thought she had...they..." her words trailed off.

Chrom let out a sigh and uncrossed his arms. "Lucina," he said, "I think you have let your worries get to your head." Both wife and daughter looked at him blankly, so he continued. "Whatever I...or, my present, er, _future_ self said about protecting your brother, I imagine it did not include this."

Olivia nodded and turned to her daughter. "We always want you and Inigo to protect each other, on and off the battlefield, but there comes a time when you have to let him experience life for a while."

"It seems like he's experienced quite a lot without me," Lucina said in a low voice.

"What do you mean by that?" Chrom asked.

Lucina took a deep breath. "My brother is one of the finest singers I have ever heard, and his ability to write lyrics and music is unparalleled by anyone I have ever met. And yet...despite living with him my whole life, despite travelling across Ylisse and time itself...I did not know any of this until a few days ago."

Lucina looked at her mother, who recognized a glassy sheen playing with the brand that sat in her left eye. "He had these interests, these amazing talents, and I did not know about them! I've spent all this time protecting him, _but I hardly know anything about him!"_

Olivia's nimble arms wrapped around her daughter's form, pulling her into a tight hug. Lucina reciprocated, placing her chin on Olivia's shoulder, and shuddering shamefully in the warm grasp. Chrom placed a hand upon her blue head, his eyes closed, but his face betraying his grief. "I...I should have been there," Lucina said, "There was time, I see that now! I should have been supporting him! Thinking about him! _Something! Anything!_"

"You were thinking about what was best for him," Chrom said, "for everyone in the future. Without you, he might still be trapped in the gray hellscape you came from."

The tears were now streaming down Lucina's face. "That's the point, father! I spent all that time after you passed, training him, planning this trip to the past, trying to give him a future. But...I never asked how he was in the present. I was so focused on moving _forward _I didn't see what I was stepping over to get there. If I had just...just...talked to him! Or thrown catch with him! Or...or..." her words trailed off again, when she felt the tears on her neck, and realized the shuddering she felt was no longer her own.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said, muffled in her daughter's tunic and hair, "I'm so sorry."

"M-mother?" Lucina stammered.

"You shouldn't be thinking about this. About raising your brother. That was my responsibility, and I failed you...I failed you both."

Lucina pulled back, gripping her mother's shoulders with her hands and looking her dead in the eye. "You are not to blame," she said, "not for any of this! You died protecting Inigo, you fought to save us! Don't you understand? Without you, neither of us would be here. Neither of us would be _alive!_"

"So it comes full circle," Chrom said, looking away from his family.

"W-what?" Olivia said, still shaking in tears.

"Lucina," Chrom said, stepping towards his daughter, gripping her shoulders tightly, "you have been through so much. But, I need you to listen to me, alright? There is absolutely_ no one_ on the planet who could have done everything you are blaming yourself for. How many people could have survived the apocalypse, avoided an all-powerful tyrant, overcome the death of both their parents, convinced a goddess to send them back in time to fix everything,_ and_ protected their brother and friends? _I_ know I could not do all of that. I can barely fight the war I'm waging now. If it was not for you, and Robin, and Olivia, and all the others, I would be dead in a field outside of Ylisstol right now."

He reached up and wiped away a tear on Lucina's left cheek with his thumb. "You did all of that. There is no way you could have raised your brother along the way, trying to be his surrogate mother. You are sixteen years old, Lucina. You should barely be handling your own feelings, let alone your brother's."

His hand reached around to the back of her head, and he pulled her in close for a hug. "You have to know, Lucina. You have to know you have done more than anyone I have ever known. To know that you are my daughter fills me with more pride than anything I have done in my life. I am so, so very proud of you."

Olivia reached around, pulling both blue-haired royals into a hug of her own, and Lucina relaxed, for what must have been the first time in forever, into a feeling of warmth and love that she forget was even possible. The royal family stood like that for quite some time, nobody wanting to be the one to spoil the moment, until finally Lucina pulled away, and Olivia grabbed Chrom's arm in support.

Lucina wiped away a final tear with the bottom of her palm, smiling, and saying, "Thank you, father. Thank both of you."

Both parents smiled back at her, and Olivia released her grip on Chrom to approach Lucina once more. "I just thought of something," she said, "instead of worrying about not talking with Inigo in the past, why don't you talk to him now?"

Lucina's smile wavered. "But, mother, after what happened...I think I should give him some time."

"Lucina," Olivia said, "you should know better than anyone how precious time is. Please don't waste any of it waiting for a right moment."

Lucina's smile broke through again, and, newly invigorated, she hugged her mother before stepping outside of the bedroom to find her brother.

"That was a lovely line," Chrom said, "how did you ever come up with it?"

Olivia turned to him with a shy smile, "I guess you could say it reminded me of someone else who tried waiting for the right moment."

Chrom blushed slightly, but gave her a knowing grin. "Well, I can hardly be blamed for that. Half the time I was looking for you to propose, you were hiding in a barrel."

Olivia's blush consumed her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. "You'll never let me live _that _down, will you?!"

Chrom pulled her into a hug, "Come now, look at the progress you've made!"

"You bully!" she said playfully, "As if you were any less embarrassed when Frederick made those _recruitment posters_."

Chrom's blush now exceeded Olivia's and as she uncovered her face, she had a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"C-come on," he said, "what's in the past is in the past right? W-why bring up ancient history?"

"Oh, you were quite embarrassed, running around the camp trying to pull them all down," she said, and her daring grin revealed to Chrom that she had entered full performance mode. There was no stopping her now. "It was a shame really," she said, her hands covering her chest in a mock sorrow, "you were so handsome in that poster, dashing, daring, your sword _hung so-_"

"R-really," Chrom stammered, "I was just thinking of morale! Imagine if the soldiers saw their leader like that, they may very well have rebelled in disgust!"

"The men perhaps," Olivia said, "after all, they would be struck by a very powerful feeling of..._inadequacy_ after seeing you in that form."

Chrom groaned and turned his head away. "Maribelle was a terrible influence on you."

Olivia giggled, her hand coming up to her mouth to cover it. "Maybe so, but something she told me must of worked. I got you in the end after all."

Chrom smiled back at her, letting his weight fall backwards towards the bed with his hands grabbing Olivia's wrists. She may a light squeak as she fell with him, his back landing on the soft mattress, and her landing on top of him, her pink braids falling around his head. A moment of silence passed before both started laughing, their chuckles echoing through the empty hallway outside of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Inigo stood alone in a storage area in the center part of the chateau. It was the only part of the building that could be considered the basement, sunk into the ground to provide some temperature regulation for the foodstuffs stored within. Inigo brushed his fingers over a rack of wine bottles, picking off some thick cobwebs idly. His mind was racing at a speed his lazy motions did not reflect, wondering just how he was going to perform damage control on his outburst, or the whole situation for that matter._ 'It would have been easier for everyone if I had just left,'_ he thought. Of all the comments he could have made, all the diplomatic options he could have taken, why did he decide _then_ to be honest?

As his hand mindlessly turned over another wine bottle, he heard a shift by the door that caused him to freeze in thought and motion. He turned quickly to the door, which was hidden from his view by some crates, and placed a ready hand on his sword. His blue eyes gazed with the precision of a hawk as a few footsteps made their way toward him, relaxing only when he saw the head of blonde hair coming around the corner.

"Oh," Owain said, "I thought I might find you here."

"Why would you think that?" Inigo said.

"I imagined you would want to go somewhere quiet," Owain replied, "it's what you usually do after all."

Inigo smiled weakly and turned away. "You know me so well."

Owain took more steps into the room, moving around a poorly placed crate to stand closer to his cousin, placing a hand on his heart. "We've been traveling together for a long time, cousin. What kind of noble would I be to be ignorant of the habits of one of my greatest allies?"

"Perhaps the kind of noble to know when a grandiose speech is not warranted."

Owain's smile faltered slightly. "I can see you are quite troubled, Inigo. If you would prefer, I can wait outside the room until you feel willing come out."

Inigo looked at him ambiguously, so Owain added on with a smile, "I can even guard the door if you like, make sure nobody comes to disturb you in your time of solitude."

A look of serious consideration took hold of Inigo's face, but with a sigh he shook his head no. "You do not have to do that," he said, "perhaps it would be easier to talk things out with a...well, not _neutral_ party, but...you know what I mean."

Owain smiled happily at that, and grabbed a smaller crate that sat near a wall, pushing it toward Inigo, and patting it like a chair. Inigo obliged, taking his seat as Owain hopped on a larger crate that was close by. Inigo took a deep breath, then sat in silence for a long moment. Owain looked around awkwardly, and thought about breaking the ice with a question of his own. But, what question? Something direct, or should they work towards it?

"I," Owain began, "hung around after Lucina's rampage earlier." Inigo did not move, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Severa and Cordelia were talking about it when Lucina left with Uncle Chrom." Owain considered his next words with a pause. "Would you like to know what they said?"

Inigo turned his head toward Owain in attention, a silent plea evident in his eyes. Owain continued, "Severa was pretty hurt that you were so adamant about not courting her. It's strange in a way...I never imagined she would be so upset that you never used your charms on her."

Inigo continued to sit quietly, so Owain continued further. "But, after they thought about the last thing you said," Inigo's eyes were now fixated on Owain's words, "they were confused about what that meant." Owain, who had been avoiding eye contact thus far, turned directly to Inigo now. "What...what _did_ that mean, Inigo?"

Inigo held his gaze for a moment, before turning back toward his hands still in his lap. A moment of silence passed again, but Inigo finally responded. "Do you remember the day my father died?"

...

Lucina stepped out of the study, silently chastising herself. _Of __course_ he would not be by the piano, the root of so much of this drama. But then, where could he have gone? To the woods maybe? He always strayed off when he was upset to dance himself into a better mood. At least, that is what Lucina thought he did. She had only followed him once early in the campaign out of concern. Perhaps he practiced his sword motions, or simply sat quietly listening to nature for a while, or sought inspiration for a song. Anything seemed possible now given recent revelations.

As she turned a corner to continue her search, she nearly ran into a certain red-haired warrior whose presence she had purposefully avoided up to this point. Severa looked just as surprised to see her, and both took a quick step back out of mutual concern. Severa's look of surprise, however, gave way to her signature annoyed frown as she crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?" she said.

Lucina straightened herself up. "I was looking for my brother to make amends. It does neither of us any good to let something fester between us."

"_Yeah, no kidding_," Severa said.

"I am picking up on your sarcasm," Lucina replied, scowling.

"I would hope so," Severa said, "I'm laying it on pretty thick."

Lucina grit her teeth for a moment, before taking a deep breath with closed eyes. Of course Severa would be angry with her. Who wouldn't be? "Inigo is...not the only person I wish to make amends with," she said.

Severa's eyebrow raised, but she said nothing. "My actions have been the cause of the recent trouble, most notably in attacking you without justification. For that I am deeply sorry."

Severa looked at her still as Lucina averted her gaze, hands clasped in shame. Severa took a heavy breath and turned away herself. "Just tell me why?" Lucina said nothing. "Why were you so angry with me, even if it was true?"

Lucina looked back at her, but quickly looked back down at her feet. "I thought...I thought that you had lied to me. That you had gone behind my back. That you did not trust me."

Severa turned back to her. Lucina finally found the courage to make eye-contact. "You have been with me, and Inigo, and Owain, since the very beginning. You've been one of the only people I know who can tell me when I'm wrong, or am acting stupid." Lucina stepped closer. "My whole life, I was surrounded by family. Later, after...you know...," and Severa did know, "I was surrounded by people who looked up to me as a leader. Who depended on me to save them. To save Ylisse. To change fate."

Severa's arms remained crossed, but her scowl was gone. "In all that time," Lucina said, "I had nobody that I could truly call a 'friend;' nobody who associated with me not out of familial obligation or because they thought I was my father's successor, but because they cared about me." Lucina took a shakey breath. "You were the one that came closest."

A long silence passed then as Severa processed this thought. "Closest?" was all she managed to say. Lucina nodded, then said, "I never confirmed it, and I knew you were always closer to Inigo and Owain, so I thought-" before she was cut off by Severa's tight grip around her body.

Lucina stood there not returning the hug, looking at the red braid now blocking part of her vision in confusion before she heard speaking again. "You thought I wasn't your friend?" Severa said, and even Lucina could perceive the betrayal in that sentence.

"Why would I think you would want to be?" Lucina asked. "Why would anyone be friends with someone like me?"

Severa pulled away then, looking Lucina in the eyes with her hands on her shoulders. A short second passed before Severa broke down in laughter at her friend's confused face. Brown and blue eyes met once again. "If I have to answer that for you, "Severa said, "then you really are hopeless."

Lucina was going to continue talking, but Severa let her go and started to walk away. "C'mon, she said, "let's go find your brother." Lucina smiled and followed her down the hallway.

...

The beauty of the scene was undercut somewhat as both women searched the chateau for any indication of Inigo's whereabouts. Nobody they asked had seen him after his outburst, and they had searched for some time before finally ending up in the center part of the building near the kitchen. "This is hopeless," Severa said, "this place is huge. How are we going to find him like this?"

"Perhaps he is no longer in the building," Lucina said, "he may be outside, or maybe..." she trailed off.

"Maybe what?" Severa said. Lucina gave no reply, staring off into the kitchen, and Severa stepped closer and followed her gaze. The women saw Owain walking carefully into the cellar, and after a moment's pause, heard Owain say, "Oh, I thought I might find you here."

Both women's eyes opened wider when they heard the response, Inigo's voice saying "Why would you think that?"

Severa took a step toward the door Owain left open, but Lucina grabbed her shoulder. "Perhaps we should come back later," she said.

Severa looked back at her uncertain, saying, "we'll wait until they are done, and when Inigo leaves we'll talk to him."

"But...should we not wait out here? It feels wrong to listen in," Lucina said.

"Oh, so_ now_ it feels wrong?" Severa replied with a grin and a raised eyebrow, at which a small blush creeped across Lucina's cheeks.

Severa walked over to the door frame, staying outside, but leaning her back against the wall trying to look casual. She saw Lucina did not follow, so Severa smiled and put a cupped hand to her ear in a mocking gesture. Lucina bit her lip, but curiosity got the better of her, and she slinked on over beside the redhead listening in. Owain said something she did not catch, but she heard Inigo's response loud and clear: "Do you remember the day my father died?"

...

Inigo exhaled. "Everything changed after that day. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how high the stakes were. What kinds of sacrifices would need to be made. Lucina started training harder than I had ever seen her, and I tried to follow suit. I tried...I _really_ tried. But, I was clumsy, weak, nowhere near the warrior my father was, or anyone else for that matter."

"You got better," Owain said simply.

"Maybe...But, I never realized it then. My mother would walk in on me crying because I couldn't keep up, and she would take me into the forest, just me and her, and she would teach me different kinds of dances." Inigo's face lifted toward the ceiling, a small smile creeping at the edges of his mouth. "I still remember how beautiful she looked, her rings and bracelets glimmering in the moonlight, the crickets our melody for all kinds of dances."

"I never saw it then," Inigo said, now looking back down, "but, it's all I see now when I think back. The lines under her eyes, the wrinkles, the strands of gray in her hair..." Inigo let off a pitiful laugh, "stress was eating her alive, but here she was, every week, taking hours out of her time to teach me to dance."

A silence came, and Owain shifted uncomfortably. "We were out dancing the night it happened...Risen came from every direction, and my mother threw herself at them to give me time to leave. I didn't even think to bring my sword...If I had, I'm not sure I would have used it. Too much a coward. She died protecting me, she gave up her life for my life...and what have I done with it?"

"I," Owain said, "I'm not sure I understand-"

"My sister," Inigo interrupted, a fire growing in his voice, "_my sister_, who should have had nothing on her mind, now had to bear the weight of a falling kingdom. She took it upon herself to save me, you, everyone. She, through her own power, managed to give us enough hope to abandon Ylisstol on a long shot, and, against all expectations, managed to give us the best chance in the universe for us to change fate."

Inigo stood up now. "We went back in time, Owain. Do you understand that? We did the _impossible _thanks to her! And nobody, especially not _me_, deserves any of the credit for that! I owe her my _life_, and I intend to give it if the need ever arises."

Owain opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced once again. "And do you know what happened two hours ago? She snapped; for the first time in her life, she snapped, and it wasn't because of Risen, or our father, or Emmeryn; it was because of _me_."

"She worries about me. She was nearly in tears earlier because she didn't know _I wrote music_ in my free time. The fate of the entire world is resting on her shoulders, and she's worried that she hasn't spent enough time with me! Do you have any idea ridiculous that is?!"

Owain finally stood up. "Inigo!" he said, "You are being too hard on yourself."

"No," Inigo said gravely, "_she_ is being too hard on herself." He measured out the next sentence stressing every syllable. "_She is the greatest person I know_. If every legend about the Hero-King Marth was true, he still wouldn't hold a candle to her. And somehow, not only have I failed to ease her load, I have put more stress upon her because she's worried about me. _Me!_ Someone utterly replaceable!"

"_You are not replaceable!_" Owain said, his own conviction rising. "Do you think we just keep you around because you are family? Your skills with the sword have been instrumental in every battle! Your wit and candor keep spirits up even in the face of destruction! Do you really think that can just be replaced?!"

"I can swing a sword, I can tell a joke, I can write a song," Inigo said. "But, I am not a leader like my father is. My dances can't inspire people like my mother's can. If they or Lucina should die, everything we have worked for, everything we built would crumble." A brief pause went by. "My mother died because I was not strong enough to save her. I do not intend to make that mistake twice."

"You won't make that mistake," Owain said, "and do you know why? Because you're not alone this time. Me, Robin, Gerome, Severa, everyone; we are here to help you, to keep everyone safe. To win this war once and for all. To save Ylisse and everything it stands for!"

The room fell silent except for labored breathing from both of them that neither had noticed until now. Owain's hand went to his heart, feeling a quick beating not usually felt outside of battle or a very intense speech. Both looked at each other, and Owain's face creeped into a grin, which Inigo's could not help but imitate. The two stood quietly in the lost echos of their breathing, their smiles displaying that strange emotion that occurs during mutual embarrassment. To get so worked up over a conversation...

...

Severa and Lucina said nothing as the pregnant silence continued. Several tears ran down Lucina's cheeks, her hand covering her mouth, her chest heavy with a weight she had felt before, but never this strongly. Severa, for her part, could say nothing and do nothing as she pondered Inigo and Owain's words.

...

Owain, however, had one thing left on his mind, and rather than drag it out, he made it clear outright.

"I am still confused on one thing, though," he said, and Inigo took notice. "How does all this relate to Severa? That is how this conversation got started after all."

Inigo took a breath and looked at his cousin. "Severa has stuck by us through the worst. When Lucina told everyone of her plan to go back in time, she was the first one to volunteer. She deserves so much better than what she's got...She deserves better than to worry about me."

"So, it's self-pity then?" Owain said bluntly, and Inigo looked at him surprised at his break of character.

"When did you get so coarse? No flowery speeches of optimism this time?"

Owain turned away with his arms crossed, his face portraying an exaggerated annoyance. "I guess you've run me dry for today."

"Well, there's a first time for everything I suppose," Inigo said.

"Humph" Owain pouted, "After everything I've done for you."

"You _have_ done a lot," Inigo said, placing a hand on Owain's shoulder before Owain childishly pulled it away. "What, really?" Inigo said.

"I'm not talking to you until you take back what you said."

"About the flowery speeches?"

"About you being a nobody who drags on everyone!" Owain said pointedly.

"Fine," Inigo said with a sigh, "then I guess you won't want to hear about a new idea for a song I've had."

Owain's frame twitched, and Inigo's face formed a grin. "A...song?" Owain said.

Inigo turned away, placing his hands over his heart in an exaggerated pose of heartache. "I have a melody, pulled straight from the throat of a native blackbird who was calling for its mate on the rooftop. It is a simple tune, so dry and lifeless without a set of lyrics to raise it to higher power. Its subtlety and nuance lost without a poem to ground it in reality."

Owain turned to Inigo with wider eyes, his form shaking, his resolve crumbling, and Inigo could feel it radiating from him. '_Jackpot,' _he thought.

"I guess I'll have to make do without," Inigo said. "I hope the masses will forgive the publication of such a subpar work." Inigo made a move toward the door, but Owain jumped out in front of him.

"No!" he said, "You are not leaving until you admit you are worthwhile!"

"Owain-"

"I will not be moved by your trickery, you charlatan!"

Inigo's smile slowly faltered. "Alright, alright. I matter to you and Lucina and others. I make a contribution to the effort that is worth mentioning. I am not a drag on my sister, Severa or anyone else."

Though Inigo said these words with the conviction of small child admitting he did something wrong, Owain seemed pleased enough about it. Inigo made a motion to exit the room, but Owain did not move. "What now?" Inigo said.

"You are not leaving until you fill me in on your melody," Owain said smugly.

Inigo sighed. "You have forced me to take drastic measures then," he said, smiling while wiggling his fingers. A drop of sweat fell down Owain's face as his smile crumbled.

"Don't come near me with that thing," Owain said, as if Inigo was approaching with a knife.

"Now Owain," Inigo said, "If you don't get out of the way, I can't be held responsible for what happens to you."

"You have a problem," Owain said.

"I have a lot of problems, but _you_ are a problem I can solve." Inigo reached out toward Owain's chin, but Owain dodged and ran out of the room, Inigo following close behind. Owain's face was fearful, but his mouth emitted nervous laughter, while Inigo's face was one of determined joy.

Both men sprinted out of the storeroom and through the kitchen, Inigo's hand inches away from Owain's neck as they turned the corner down the hallway. In their excitement, neither noticed the two women who stood frozen against the wall, watching them go and unable to say a word.


	12. Chapter 12

Dinner at the Shepherds' camp was usually quite a jovial affair. A reprieve from fighting, marching, and strategizing, where all were welcome to take a seat around fire pits and partake in whatever food was available. Onions, bread, rice, with occasional rations of fruits and other vegetables to stave off malnutrition. For some, it was a peasant meal that was bearable, as the alternative was starvation. For others, it was a feast larger than they had ever experienced at home. Like most things in life, it depended on perspective, but all agreed that dinner was a pleasant time.

Despite this, Lucina could not feel the pleasantness that everyone else seemed to radiate at the smell of toasted bread and bubbling soup. Her eyes were cast down at her untouched plate, stealing occasional glances at her parents, who seemed far cheerier than usual, and her brother, who sat further down the outdoor table telling some elaborate joke to Owain and Gerome. Lucina could not hear its contents, but seeing the smile that he bore while he told it sent mixed signals to her heart.

Inigo's smile was a precious thing. During their time in the future, he and Owain were the only ones to try to keep everyone upbeat. Certainly, Lucina and her plan to contact Naga provided motivation, hope, courage; but Inigo's jokes and laughter, and Owain's adorably pitiful attempts at valor kept their spirits up, and reminded all that there was something to love and to care for in a bleak world of pestilence. Though Lucina often butted heads with Inigo about her dour and serious attitude, which he insisted was not good for her or their comrades, she never once tried to stop _his_ smiling. Seeing the hopeful gleam in his branded eye gave her something powerful within, a fire that warmed her when her world was covered by gray rains and snow.

Seeing him now, however, in the aftermath of his speech to Owain (or indeed, any of the recent events since that day in the study), the fire within Lucina seemed like a stray spark with no tinder to catch. Here was this man (no, not a man, a fourteen year old boy), trying to smile and joke and keep everyone else's spirits up when so much turmoil raged within him. Guilt over an event in which he had no control. Guilt over the feelings of a sister that was supposed to be his protector. Guilt that anyone would spare him a thought when more pressing matters were at hand. As she looked upon that smile as he finished the story to thunderous laughter from Owain (and a quiet chuckle from Gerome), Lucina had to wonder how genuine it could be.

Had it _ever_ been genuine? Now that was a scary thought. Lucina had credited Inigo's upbeat demeanor to his personality and youth, thinking that he merely lacked the exposure or the comprehension to see the directness of the situation. In more spiteful moments (which always brought Lucina shame), she often thought that, with enough time, Inigo would eventually come to see the world as she did.

But, if it had not been genuine, then had it all been an act? The boy watched his own mother die as he cowered and ran away in fear, then spent every moment of the next two and a-half years training, fighting, and marching through a barren waste littered with monsters and the corpses of friends and neighbors. What person could possibly come through that with a smile?

As these thoughts came to Lucina, she could feel a terrible chill in the core of her being. He was suffering, as much as anyone who clawed their way out of what could only be described as an earthly hell. Yet, he kept it all inside and put on a fake smile._ 'For me,'_ Lucina thought, with a mixture of love and disgust. Chrom, Olivia, Inigo...everyone could tell her how great she was; how much they owed her for their own continued existence. Her parents could tell her for a hundred years how proud they were. Even Lucina's more pragmatic half knew logically that there was only so much a single person could do. Still, her other half ignored the logic and pleasing words, and focused on the boy who, in the course of a few days, had become an enigma to her.

"Are you alright, Lucina?" Olivia asked, "you have barely touched your food."

Lucina looked up at her mother, and noticed both parents looking at her with a bit of concern. She shook her head slightly to get out of her train of thought. "I was just thinking about something," she said.

"You were staring at your brother," Chrom said, "have you talked with him yet?"

Lucina clenched her fists under the table. "No," she said, "he was speaking with Owain earlier, and I did not want to interrupt."

Both parents seemed to accept that as an answer, and Lucina took a thankful bite of her bread. Dinner continued as usual from that point forward, and though Lucina started slowly, she finished her meal faster than most without any idle chatter. Getting up from the table, she said goodbye to her parents for the time being, slipping away towards the armory to fiddle with weapon maintenance. If any activity could help clear her mind, it would be this one.

...

She entered the tent where weapons were stored, cringing slightly when she remembered her conversation with Severa there in what now seemed like a lifetime ago. She approached a rack of spears, wondering which deserved her attention most. Right as she was about to draw one with a slight chip in the left bevel, she heard the flap of the tent flutter open. Turning slightly, she caught the gaze of a dark blue eye with matching bangs, and froze in her tracks.

Inigo let the flap close behind him, but said nothing as he stood there, his hands clasped, his foot dragging in the dirt awkwardly. Lucina turned to face him, but found she could do no more. A very quiet minute passed as Inigo cleared his throat and said, almost inaudibly, "I saw that you looked a bit upset during dinner. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Y-yes," Lucina said quietly.

Inigo scratched the back of his head, a habit they both picked up from their father, and took a step forward. "L-look," he said, "I'm sorry about what happened earlier."

"You're...apologizing?" Lucina said, "but, I was the one who overreacted."

"Well," Inigo continued, "you're not wrong, but I do bear some responsibility for this. Given everything that happened recently, I can see you were under a lot of stress." He took a step closer. "If I had been more upfront about my feelings toward Severa, you may not have jumped to conclusions."

"You have no reason to apologize," Lucina said, "It was my mistake, and I will accept the consequences for it."

A moment of silence passed, neither sibling having much to say, until Inigo broke the silence again. "Have you spoken to Severa since then?"

"I have," Lucina said, "I think we have made amends."

Inigo let out an audible sigh of relief. "I was hoping so," he said, "you know how she is. Quick to anger, but never holds a grudge. Pretty much the opposite of Owain in that regard." Inigo put his hand to his chin in thought. "Actually, now that I think about it, Owain and her are pretty much completely opposite. I'm not sure how they put up with each other."

Lucina smiled slightly at that. "If you were to ask Lissa, she would say that opposites attract."

Inigo let out a small chuckle. "Owain and Severa? There's a match made in Heaven! Though, I doubt Owain would oppose."

Lucina tilted her head slightly in confusion, a dog-like habit she had that always made Inigo smile. "What's with that look?" Inigo said, grinning.

"You said...Owain would not oppose?" Lucina said cautiously.

Inigo gave a shrug and a wave of his hand. "Ah, don't worry about it," he said, "speaking of Owain, I was talking with him earlier..."

Lucina's eyes widened, but Inigo seemed not to notice. "And afterward I was thinking. I had thought you knew about my singing and composing, but you did not, and you seemed pretty upset about that." Inigo shifted awkwardly. "So, since I don't know how much longer we'll be here, I could show you some of my work while we still have piano access...If, that's something you would want..."

Lucina's lips curved upward. "I would like nothing more. We can go right now if you want."

"R-right now," Inigo said, "we'll I still need to ask Owain if he'll play out the notes for me, and-"

Suddenly, the tent flap opened with a flourish, and Owain stood in its opening, hand outstretched with a gleaming smile on his face. "_Speak no more, cousin!"_ he announced, "I have heard your call for my talented hands, ready to produce the notes of grandeur that turn the hearts of the masses!"

Both blue-haired siblings stood silently for a moment, before Inigo spoke with a slight growl in his voice. "Owain, were you listening that whole time?"

Owain's heroic demeanor faltered as he put his hands closer to his chest. "W-well," he said, "given what we discussed, uh, earlier, I thought it would be best to...to, you know...make sure you..." his eyes shifted over to Lucina in a gesture that Owain probably thought was subtle.

Inigo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just go wait in the study," he said simply.

Owain bowed in an overblown gesture, and quickly exited the tent, Inigo sighing as he followed his lead. "Is there nowhere in this complex I can have private conversation?" he asked rhetorically, and Lucina, not having an answer to that she was willing to admit, followed him quietly out.

...

Inigo and Lucina climbed the steps of the chateau towards the study, Inigo giving the list of caveats he always gave before any kind of performance. Though he kept his dancing private after their parents' death, she had seen many before, and Inigo always prefaced them with a long list of why the dance would not be ideal. Now, he was giving a similar speech about how he was out of practice, how his voice was always a bit scratchy after eating toast as he did tonight, about how he had not rehearsed in a long time, et cetera.

Lucina simply nodded along, understanding that even as talented as he was, and even before an audience of family only, the stage-fright he inherited from Olivia would persist. The fact that he was willing to approach her to show her his singing was so dear to her, that she did not dare say anything that might alter his resolve. Though she desperately wanted to discuss his conversation with Owain earlier, to dissect his every point, to prove to him how much he meant to her and others, she kept quiet for the time being. Such a talk could come later; why have an argument now?

As they opened the door to the study, they found Owain already at the piano's keys, his fingers striking out a basic scale in preparation. The siblings entered, and Inigo was careful to close the door behind him. "So," Owain said, "which of our masterful compositions will grace dear Lucina's ears today?"

Inigo reached into his satchel and rummaged around a few papers while Owain and Lucina looked on expectantly. "I have a few with me on hand," he began, "some lyrics I wrote, some Owain wrote, a few Plegian poems I put music to..." he trailed off as he continued rummaging.

"I am sure any of them would be fine," Lucina said.

"Maybe we should start where we started," Owain said. Both looked at him confused, so he continued. "I mean our very first opus. Where all this began."

Inigo winced a bit. He had never truly cared for his first bit of music as a piece of art. It held great sentimental value for sure, and he never once regretted writing it, but to perform it now that Lucina had heard better work seemed wrong. "Maybe something else instead," Inigo said.

Lucina hated seeing Inigo act so indecisive, so she gave a suggestion of her own. "Perhaps you could finish those songs I overheard earlier?"

Inigo's face seemed to drop a bit. "A-are you sure?" he said, "they are not very happy or cheerful."

Lucina's head cocked to the side in confusion.

"I too would like to hear more of those," Owain said, "That first piece about spring coming back was quite good, and I do not remember hearing the rest."

Lucina finally realized they were talking about the song he sang to Severa; the ones he expressly would not sing as it was "too personal." As Lucina turned back towards Inigo to correct the mistake, Inigo was already looking at the faded pages with the top part curled around his fingers so that Lucina could see, albeit upside down. Though the notation was still foreign to her, the title was quite clear: _Four Songs of Sorrow._

"Alright," Inigo said, cutting off Lucina's unspoken sentence. "But...these are very personal. Lyrics I wrote in a very sad time...when we were still over there..." his head ducked down.

"I-its alright," Lucina said, "we do no have to play something if its going to make you sad."

"I might be good for you though," Owain said, "clearly those feelings are still impacting you. It might do you well to get them out."

Inigo still looked unsure at Owain's logic, and Lucina was not confident it would be the best move. Nevertheless, Inigo, after another glance at the papers, walked over to Owain and handed him the papers, where Owain looked them over briefly and placed them on the piano.

Lucina took a seat in a chair up against the opposite wall, and Inigo took several deep breaths in and out as Owain started up the first notes. The first song, "Spring Sorrow," played out much like she remembered from when she overheard, and though it was no "Love's Philosophy" in lyrics or musical power, it was a fine song in its own right, made richer by Inigo's voice. For the melancholy of its tone, the lyrics and melody were rising toward the end, giving the sorrowful song a hint of hope.

When the next song, "Autumn Evening" came up, however, Lucina could tell from its very first notes that it was going to be a sad one. Owain's fingers played softly an almost ethereal melody that seemed to linger in the air with every note as Inigo began:

_ "The yellow poplar leaves have strown_

_ Your quiet mound; you slumber_

_ Where winter's winds will be unknown;_

_ So deep your rest,_

_ So deep your rest."_

Lucina's heart began to sink as the words' meaning came through.

_ "Sleep on my love, your dreams are sweet..._

_ If you have dreams; the flowers I brought,_

_ I lay aside for passing for passing feet,_

_ Though I need not,_

_ Though I need, I need not!"_

A grave of a beloved, whose mourner doubted her afterlife; who brings flowers and moves them aside for visitors that never come. The image nearly drove Lucina to tears, the melancholy melody seeping into her very being.

_ "The graves are gathered on the hills,_

_ The light has died; the songbird's gone._

_ The breath of early evening chills-"_

Inigo's own eyes closed as a tear began to form, his voice wavering as it built up to a conclusion. Lucina leaned forward, her own eyes finally watering as Inigo put out the last lines:

_ "Mother, mother, sleep on;_

_ Mother, mother, sleep on."_

The notes seemed to fade into nothingness, their last echos lingering in the room. It was a beautiful song, a gorgeous melody carrying unrefined lyrics of a child's grief over his dead mother. Their dead mother.

Lucina immediately rose and hugged Inigo tightly, who was perfectly willing to return it. Both stood in silent embrace for a moment as Lucina let the vision of Inigo, still so young, leaving flowers at their mother's grave overwhelm her. He went by her graveside to practice his dancing all the time in the previous world. Lucina was only able to watch it once, too heart-wrenched by Inigo's sincerity in talking to the slab of stone that represented their mother about his improvement.

Owain did not join the hug, but his eyes were watering at the music he empathized with. A part of him noted solemnly that all his flowery poetry, clinging to the old rules of "thee" and "thou," had not yet captured a feeling as raw as Inigo's song. He dared not continue playing, lest he disturb the moment, and merely stared through his own tears at the siblings.

Lucina pulled away slightly, viewing Inigo's face that looked back at her with quivering lips. The stood in a silent moment. "So," Owain said, "how do you feel?"

Inigo looked at him, then back to Lucina, letting a shaky laugh come through a slight grin. "I haven't sang that song since we left," he said, "I...I'm not sure how I feel."

"Perhaps we should stop then," Lucina said. Inigo looked to Owain, who gave no indication of what he should do. Inigo glanced back at the piano, then turned to Lucina again. "We can if you want to...but, I would rather keep going."

Lucina and Owain both looked surprised. "You never know when we'll get another chance, right?" he said, "It's not as if there are pianos everywhere we camp."

Lucina and Owain shared another glance before Lucina nodded and sat back down, Owain flipping to the next page. Owain began the next song, and Inigo breathed deeply as he began to sing once again:

_ "What land of silence, where pale stars shine_

_ On rotten forests and crumpled vines_

_ Is yours and mine?_

_ The silent valley that we will find,_

_ Where all the voices of humankind_

_ Are left behind._

_ There all forgetting, forgotten quite,_

_ Memories hold the only delight_

_ Hid out of sight._

_ The world forsaken and out of mind,_

_ Honor and labor we shall not find;_

_ The stars unkind._

_ Brave men shall travail, and softly weep,_

_ As our hopeful prayers reach gods asleep,_

_ As risen creep._

_ A land of silence, where pale stars shone_

_ Now cloaked in gray with us alone;_

_ Our only home."_


	13. Chapter 13

When the scouts finally reported on a clue about the Grimleal's whereabouts, Chrom announced that the Shepherds were finally leaving the chateau they had called home for nearly a week. A welcome reprieve for the soldiers, no doubt, but they could not simply rest for the remainder of the war.

Validar's forces were dwindling and his popular support was fading. The risen that infested Plegia had no cognition, and they attacked Plegian peasant and Shepherd alike with equal ferocity. Validar himself had proved to be more concerned with the awakening ritual than governing the crumbling kingdom he had inherited from Gangrel. The Plegian army was not what it used to be, and on that front, the Shepherd's current invasion went much smoother than their overthrow of Gangrel.

Unlike Gangrel, however, who even in his reckless insanity had an iota of pride, Validar was not afraid to wait in the shadows. Despite Robin's best efforts, and despite many Plegian civilians offering them all they knew for a meal without maggots, the heads of the Grimleal were difficult to track. Validar had the Fire Emblem, but nobody knew exactly where or under what conditions he could actually perform the awakening. That he had gone this long without conducting the ritual led Robin to believe he was missing something, and so, after the chateau was cleared, Robin had spent almost every moment strategizing and researching the topic in the study as the scouts did their work.

He considered these searches as he walked alongside Chrom and the others heading west. Every book ever written on the awakening described it in vague terms, Plegian sources too reverent to go into detail, Ylissean sources too afraid. Robin knew Validar needed the Fire Emblem, but what else did he need? The frustration at finding no answers was only compounded by his need to compose more tactics against Validar's forces, which, though small in number, were fierce.

The most dangerous thing in nature is the desperate and cornered animal, as it is the only creature that would knowingly gamble its life on terrible chances. The Grimleal, though not physically cornered, were desperate in their quest to resurrect the Fell Dragon, and that kind of mindset was perhaps the scariest thing for Robin. Every brave warrior was willing to die in battle, but to knowingly place oneself in harm's way as a trap, to sacrifice oneself and one's allies simply to take an enemy with them, to commit, for all intents and purposes, suicide in a quest to destroy the world was a level of reckless fanaticism that Robin was not prepared for. Gangrel's soldiers, especially after Emmeryn's death, could be swayed with words, by the hopelessness of the situation. Only a diehard few would ever choose destruction over capture, and they were swiftly dealt with.

Validar's remaining forces, however, had stomped out or scared off all those who might have been reasonable, might have been open to surrender. There was seemingly nothing these remaining men and women would not do for their cause, no plan or sacrifice or tactic too wasteful and stupid for them to try. The sheer brilliance was that, as a logical being who tried to save as many lives as possible on his own side, Robin simply could not get into the headspace of someone who would allow so many of their own to die to buy time for a ritual.

Virion provided practice against such an enemy in their games. He treated their little strategy competitions as the board games they were, never hesitating to sacrifice his pieces, a feat Robin, even in a fictional representation of battle, would never do. Whatever skills Robin was gaining from the games, however, it was not enough to defeat Virion, and gave him little hope that he could both find and defeat Validar and his remaining forces.

Chrom seemingly had no such worries, or at least had the fortitude to not express them. Robin envied the seemingly endless confidence in his forces that Chrom showed, the illogical belief that, not matter how steep the odds, the Shepherds would prevail. Robin wanted to believe…_he had to believe…_but it was difficult nonetheless.

…

Lucina alternated between looking at Robin and Inigo, as always concerned for both their well-beings. It was easy for her to determine what Robin was thinking and feeling, he projected it clearly on his face at all times. If he was making any attempt to hide these feelings, it did not show. Lucina had learned from her father long ago that projecting confidence was one of the most essential roles of a leader. Standing before the danger with seemingly no regard for the challenges one would face, believing wholeheartedly that one would succeed. Behind this projection, however, Lucina knew all too well the nervousness and uncertainty that plagued every leader who genuinely cared for their followers.

Lucina had always thought Robin and Inigo were similar in that way. Whatever they were thinking or feeling showed on their faces, or in Inigo's case, fell out of his mouth without much consideration. Now, having listened to some of Inigo's songs, having overheard his dissatisfaction with himself and his high, almost reverent thoughts about her…she was no longer sure.

Inigo was walking alongside his mother, neither of them talking, but seeming to enjoy one another's company. He was always closer to Olivia than Lucina was, and having spent so much time recently pondering her family dynamics, she questioned, for perhaps the first time, why that was. Someone had told her once that girls are more attached to their fathers, while boys to their mothers, and anecdotal observations seemed to confirm that. Yet, the difference in personality between her mother and her made Lucina think that simple explanation was not enough.

Olivia was shy, especially in this stage of her life, though she would grow more confident as her life went on. When on stage, or dancing alongside their comrades to build morale, she showed none of this fear. Lucina could understand shyness; it is not easy being the center of attention, to have dozens of eyes look upon you for entertainment, or guidance (or for a brief time after Chrom's death, both, in Olivia's case). Lucina herself inherited her father's bluntness, a blessing and a curse depending on the situation.

Indeed, she inherited much from Chrom, especially physically. Her female form would always prevent an exact resemblance, but the shape and color of their eyes, the firm upright posture, the strength that seemed never to be limited by their slender frames, all of it made it clear to anyone with functioning eyes she was her father's daughter. But, what did she get from Olivia? Owain and her had spoken about this once, if she recalled. A conversation that started when Lucina wondered where Owain got his theatrical quirks. He claimed that her habit of cocking her head when puzzled, a trait Inigo annoyingly described as "like a confused dog," came from Olivia, though Lucina had never seen Olivia do so.

Perhaps this was why Inigo was so hard for Lucina to grasp. She received none of Olivia's personality or feelings, but Inigo did. Like Olivia, he could put on a show for others, and not simply with dances or songs. A joke to elicit levity no matter how dire the situation. A serious word of encouragement to a fellow fighter. A flirtatious line that, while usually eliciting groans or eye rolls, just as often elicited a smile. Perhaps, Lucina thought, all his life had been a show for others, to bury and hide the turmoil deep inside himself, to not be the burden he thought of himself as. As she inherited so little from her mother, she simply never understood that.

'_No!' _she firmly told herself. Not always a show. He wrote joyful music to exciting songs like "Love's Philosophy," songs about love and courtship, not death and destruction like his _Songs of Sorrow_. Though, as she thought about it more, Owain did write the lyrics to Love's Philosophy. He wrote that "June" song to Owain's lyrics as well. Were there any happy songs Inigo wrote all by himself? The only original compositions where Inigo also wrote the lyrics she had heard were melancholy, and in the case of "Autumn Evening," so unbelievably depressing (yet so strangely beautiful) that Lucina's face cooled and her eyes felt glassy just thinking about it.

If only she could look at the other songs Inigo wrote. But he would never just show the sheet music, not even to her. Inigo was a perfectionist, just like their mother. He would never allow a song or dance to be shown incomplete, in this case, without music. Thus, Lucina resigned herself to the fact that, unless another piano and time to play it materialized out of thin air, she would most likely not have a chance to sate her curiosity.

…

Inigo wondered if Lucina realized how much she was staring at him and Olivia. He considered asking her if something was on her mind, but decided against it due to the crowds of soldiers walking behind them. Personal matters could wait for a personal time, he supposed.

Walking alongside his mother…well, a _version_ of his mother, was an odd feeling. On the one hand, this _was _his mother, the same Olivia whose shyness never left, even if circumstances reduced it quite considerably. The same Olivia that struggled so desperately to show the world her talents, but was so afraid of failure she could not bring herself to do so outside of the necessity of battle. The one who he, alongside Chrom, owed his very existence (though he owed Lucina his current life).

At the same time, however, this was _not_ his mother. She had yet to teach him how to dance. She had yet to hold him in comfort as his father was killed. She knew nothing of the future world where Inigo developed, knew nothing of the pain he caused by leaving her behind in cowardice. His real mother was dead, buried under a stone with his father and hundreds of others on the hills of a world where the sun never shined brightly and one could never see the stars. The last time he saw her was in a pool of her blood. The last time he spoke to her (assuming she could still hear him) was a parting goodbye to her gravestone after Lucina had announced her ambitious plan to get to the past. For all she gave him, he could give nothing more than a bundle of flowers, robbed of their full potential by constant overcast.

Even now, what could he give besides his service? He had a job to do, and nothing in the world, no matter what Validar planned, would stop him. Grima would never be allowed to rise. The risen would once again be dead. The world he escaped would never come to pass; not in this timeline. Yet, for all his determination, it did not make these quiet moments any less awkward.

"Do you know what I just realized?" Olivia said looking over at him.

Inigo shook his head briefly, to answer her question and clear his thoughts.

"We've been in Plegia all this time, but I haven't seen a single forest yet."

"Plegia is a desert," Inigo answered, "they don't have many trees."

Olivia looked out at the landscape. Relatively flat with distant mountains, their current area a sea of short grasses. Brown paths the only roads, exposed rocks the only milestones.

"It seems so strange to me," she continued, "There were plenty of forests in Regina Ferox, and even more in Ylisse. It makes me wonder how Plegians live without them."

Inigo had no answer, so he said nothing. The conversation quieted down as somebody noticed the village that was appearing on the horizon, a small place with brown fields surrounding it, fires from cooking releasing white smoke into the air. In their fight against Gangrel, such settlements would need to be approached with caution. In this fight, however, Plegians had seemingly lost their ill-will toward Ylisse. The Shepherds took nothing, as there was nothing to take, and they often offered food and protection in exchange for service, or traded spare rations for information.

Thus, the sight of the Shepherds approaching the village elicited no serious response from the townsfolk, and the approach to the village was without incident.


	14. Chapter 14

Water was a precious resource in Plegia. Rainfall was infrequent and unpredictable, and though some entrepreneurs in costal towns were bottling distilled seawater for consumption, most Plegians' access to freshwater was tentative at best. Underground aquafers were the most common way Plegians hydrated themselves, their livestock, and their crops. Thus, the well or fountain that stood at the center of every Plegian village was treated with almost sacred reverence. One could meet every Plegian in town if they stood by the well long enough, and the whole of the community seemed to be based on the common quest for water every person made every day to their local well.

It was by this well that most residents of the small village the Shepherds approached gathered, even with the noise of hundreds of feet marching, the murmuring was loud and clear from the populace, though it was too faint to make out exactly what was being said. Chrom and Robin had seen such sights before, and their experience over the past month or so trekking through Plegian villages had given them a confident familiarity with how this situation was to be addressed. Both of them signaled their army to hold, and, walking alone toward the center of town, they made their way to the crowd. Lucina and her fellow Shepherds never particularly liked this practice, of their Exalt walking alone with only one (albeit a very competent) ally at his side. Nevertheless, it could not be denied that both men were perfectly capable of defending themselves, and the most elite soldiers in the world stood within sight just behind them. The Shepherds had long ago calculated that the chances of a random Plegian civilian making a successful attack of opportunity was minimal. Though, Robin had to pessimistically note, it was never _zero_.

To the surprise of everyone, two Plegians walked out of the crowd by the well and directly towards the Exalt. Cordelia noticeably tightened her grip on her lance, and Lucina placed her hand on the Falchion. Most villagers said nothing until Chrom had introduced himself and his intentions. It seemed the villagers of this town were not going to be so passive.

Of the two men, one was very tall; so tall, in fact, that Robin questioned how he had not noticed him before. He stood at least a head taller than anyone else in the village, and only Gregor and the tallest soldiers among the Shepherds could hope to match him. His shoulders were broad, and draped over them was a black vest with pockets sewed on it, partially concealing a plain white shirt and black pants. His face was square and serious, a short head of dark brown hair completing the picture.

Despite his imposing figure, he stood a full step behind (and constantly glanced at) the second man, who stood at virtually the same height as Robin and Chrom. His hair was longer, and in the same basic style as Robin's, but black, brushed just out of the way of his deep brown eyes. His outfit was simple, black pants and white shirt, just like his tall associate, but complimented by a long black coat of thin wool with a hood he left hanging behind his neck. A knife was clearly visible in his belt, but he made no effort to conceal it. Contrary to Robin's initial expectation when he saw its handle, it was not a dagger or focused weapon, but rather a common workman's knife used in all sorts of occupations.

The four men stopped when they were about a yard from each other, the shorter one still standing just before the tall one, and Robin standing just behind Chrom.

"Greetings," Chrom began, "I am Prince Chrom of Ylisse. We are the Shepherds. This is my tactician, Robin." The shorter one's brown eyes shifted briefly to Robin before returning to Chrom. "As you may have heard, we are attempting to track down the Grimleal and their current leader, Validar. We mean no harm to your village, and do not intend to deprive you of your peace or property. Indeed, we are simply passing through on more pressing matters, and have no intentions to stay in your village or your country any longer than necessary to stop the Grimleal."

The tall one looked at the shorter one, as did many of the civilians standing silently behind them, but the shorter one said nothing, still looking at Chrom with narrowed eyes. Chrom also regarded the man, before continuing to speak. "If any of you have any information concerning the whereabouts of Validar or his followers, my fellow Shepherds and I would be more than happy to trade provisions for it. Furthermore," he said, now looking at the crowd, "if any among you wish to join us in our fight to defeat the Grimleal, you will welcome to come along. You will receive pay, food, and the protection of your fellow soldiers, with the condition that you assist us in defeating the men who have plunged the world into chaos, and help restore order to our continents."

The shorter one finally broke his gaze with Chrom, looking to the taller one, who offered only a blank expression. When he finally returned to looking at Chrom, his head was slightly cocked, and the corner of his mouth turned upward in a slight grin. "Join with you?" he finally said. He spoke to Chrom, but loudly, expecting everyone in the vicinity to hear him. "Join with the man who helped start the last war? Spilled the blood of hundreds of young men from our villages without concern or remorse?"

"If you have anyone to blame for that," Robin said, "You can blame your former king."

Chrom eyed Robin from the side. What he said was true, but responding to accusations with accusations was rarely conducive in tense situations.

"My king," the shorter one said, "your king, or whatever you call it over there, the 'Exalt,'" he now eyed Chrom, "all the same to us. Whether we died to your sword or his, what difference did it really make in the end?"

Chrom took a breath, "I can understand your hesitation given the circumstances," he said. "What is your name, sir?"

The shorter one paused for a moment. "Lloyd," he said.

"And who are you?" Chrom said, now looking at the taller one. The man opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to close it back up, and, with a rather nervous expression, looked back to Lloyd, who even without turning his attention from Chrom, could seemingly feel his gaze.

"Llewellyn," Lloyd finally said. "His name is Llewellyn."

"Lloyd," Chrom said extending his hand. Lloyd looked at it suspiciously, before finally extending his own and gripping Chrom's hand. Chrom let out a brief smile before turning his attention to the taller man. "Llewellyn," Chrom said.

Llewellyn said nothing as he stared at Chrom's hand. There was a pregnant silence for a moment, before Lloyd let out a small sigh and said, "just shake his hand, Ell." Llewellyn began to raise his left hand to grab Chrom's, before Lloyd let out a simple "other hand," and Llewellyn hesitantly corrected his mistake, and grabbed Chrom's hand. Chrom was surprised as the gentleness in Llewellyn's grip, given his size and stature.

Chrom returned to his original position. "I would never threaten you with death if you did not join us," he said, "I am not like Gangrel. And rest assured, I will not hold any ill will toward you or your village if that is your decision."

Lloyd looked at Chrom up and down, and after a moment, his lips curled back up into his grin.

"You'll have to forgive me," Lloyd said, "I've never actually been in the presence of nobility before. I half-expected to feel some…divine glow or aura just looking at you." Lloyd took a step closer, to the concern of everyone. Robin prepared his mind for a spell and took a firmer stance, through Chrom kept himself still and composed. With Lloyd this close, Chrom finally guessed that Lloyd was about the same age as him.

"Yet," he continued, "all I see is another man."

"I take it you are not a fan of royalty?" Chrom said.

Lloyd shrugged, still grinning. "Two bad kings in a row. Kinda leaves a bad taste in the mouth." Lloyd turned his back on them as he took a step toward Llewellyn. "What do you think of them, Ell?"

Llewellyn said nothing, through he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before nervously closing it again. Lloyd turned back around, his arms crossed and his stance casual and slanted. "Tell me," he said, "let's assume you find Validar and defeat him." He nodded his head behind him to indicate the crowd and village. "What does that mean for us?"

Chrom could not help but raise his eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"What," said Lloyd, emphasizing each word, "does that mean for us?"

Chrom lightly cleared his throat. "Validar is attempting to resurrect the Fell Dragon-"

"Yes, yes," Lloyd interrupted, "I know all about it." Both Robin and Chrom glanced to each other. Perhaps this was who the scouts meant.

"You do?" Robin said, somewhat incredulously.

Lloyd's grin faltered. "I can read," he said, "There's a rare trait in a Plegian I'm sure. My father used to be the administrator for this village. He would let me look over his letters and books." Lloyd's mouth finally went straight. "I know about the Fell Dragon," he said.

"Then you understand our urgency," Robin continued.

"Not particularly," Lloyd said. "The Grimleal spend so much time researching the Fell Dragon, its power, its resurrection...But, they've never gotten any closer to figuring out how to do it. They know they need something called a "Fire Emblem," but that's all they know. Given your friend's robe's here, I imagine you know that magic is rarely so simple."

Robin could not help but glance at his robes before speaking. "How do you know so much about this?"

Lloyd's grin returned. "I read."

Seeing that neither Chrom or Robin had a look that showed they were convinced, Lloyd let out a breath and paced toward Llewellyn. "My father was the administrator of this village like I said. Held the position for years. Collected taxes, did the census, all kinds of things."

Lloyd's hands went behind his back as he walked back to his original position. "Yet, somehow, in their infinite wisdom, King Gangrel and his Grimleal friends decided that, along with half the population of this village, he would drag my father along to fight his stupid,_ stupid_ war." Lloyd's face turned to stone. "They took a man who had never held a weapon in his life, put a spear in his hands, and sent him out against a squadron of Ylissean soldiers."

A pregnant paused passed. "No one who left this village ever came back."

Chrom maintained his gaze, but some of the Ylissean soldiers shifted. It was uncomfortable to remember that the soldiers they had cut down so effortlessly had people at home waiting for them. That many of them did not get a choice to fight. Ylisse's army was the only one made wholly of volunteers.

"Still, you would be amazed how much mail a dead man can get. I guess they were so eager to put bodies in the _ground_, they didn't stop to actually check if any of them were still alive after our…_'glorious king_,'" Lloyd said, his voice laced with venom, "was dethroned."

"They told you about the Fell Dragon," Robin said, "Through your father's letters?"

Lloyd grinned and wagged his finger. "Now you've got it," he said, "letter after letter of victory, telling us how they'd found the Fire Emblem, telling us they were *this* close to bringing about the Great Awakening."

Lloyd finally let out a quick chortle. "Then, not a week later, offered rewards for any books brought to them about the Awakening or the Fell Dragon." Lloyd's chortle turned to a full-on laugh. "All that effort to get the Fire Emblem_, and they don't even know how it works!_"

Llewellyn finally joined Lloyd in his laughter, and sizable portion of the Plegian civilians joined in as well. The Shepherds looked at each other, many of them in the back who had not heard much were confused at the laughter, those in the front were debating whether to remain stoic or try to join in.

When Lloyd finally stopped laughing, he looked Chrom up and down once again, and his hands gripped the lapels of his jacket near his chest. "So," he finally said, "I hear you're willing to trade information for provisions, is that correct?"

Finally seeming to be getting somewhere, Chrom answered affirmatively. "Yes, of course. Anything you or your fellow villagers need that we have on us."

Lloyd breathed deeply, as if he was mustering up courage. "How about," Lloyd said, "something you can't give us now, but would be able to give us later."

Chrom and Robin looked at each other. "Go on," Chrom said.

Lloyd looked to Llewellyn, who looked back at him with an excited smile, and Lloyd returned his gaze to Chrom with a smile. "You see, Validar has no clear successor as the King of Plegia. And…given that our last few kings have been disasters, I was thinking…why bother with a king at all this time?"

….

Lucina heard that sentence and could not help but cock her head a bit. What was this man saying? A kingdom without a king?

Sure, such a thing did happen due to war or infighting; Regina Ferox was apparently quite infamous for its civil wars before the current arrangement came about some years ago. But, now Lloyd was advocating that once Chrom had defeated Validar, no one would take his place?

"I am not sure I understand," Chrom said, voicing Lucina's thoughts.

"I guess I wouldn't expect you to," Lloyd said, his face still displaying that smug, stupid grin that was grating on Lucina's nerves. Chrom was always humble in his dealings, but to spoke to so irreverently, as if his achievements meant nothing!

"What I am suggesting," Lloyd said, "is that, rather than a king, we decided on a sort of…council to oversee Plegia." Lloyd broke his gaze, moving his hands around, as if trying to stir up his thoughts or illustrate the concept. "Every village and town would send somebody to the capital, they all meet together in a room and talk, and if any big laws or changes come, they cannot happen without a majority vote."

'_What a strange idea,'_ Lucina thought. Would this "council" of everymen be their own army? Did major cities with thousands of citizens only get to send the same amount of people as tiny villages like this one? And who would be sent to collect taxes or maintain the roadways?

"I ask that you help make that idea reality," said Lloyd.

"That's quite a proposal," Robin said, "though I can already see some…logistical difficulties."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Lloyd said, looking at Robin "I have no illusions it will be perfect. Though, you seem like a smart enough guy, surely you can help work something out once Validar is removed from power."

"I have little experience in government," Robin said, "my expertise is in tactics."

"All the more reason to try," Lloyd responded, "you won't be on your own. And you or someone else trustworthy among you could help keep the nobles from ruining everything with their power plays."

Lucina could see Lloyd was being serious; that despite having no great ideas of how to make this council idea work, he wanted something other than a king. She supposed she understood that, given the destruction the last two reigned over. But, could it be done?

"I appreciate your sentiment, Lloyd," Chrom said, "though I I do have some hesitation in making such a...bold plan after only one suggestion."

"Rest assured," Lloyd said, "though my own experience is limited, I know I speak for my village when we call for something new. I know thousands across Plegia are tired of seeing bad kings reign and bitter nobles fight over an empty chair once they die." He took a determined step forward. "Plegia is ready for something different."

Robin was nervous. Chrom would not really promise something so revolutionary just to get some information out of this man, would he? Though Lloyd had been knowledgeable so far, what details could he possibly provide that could be worth such a gamble?

Chrom seemed to at least share the feeling. "What is it you can offer us that is worth such an…ambitious promise?"

Lloyd's hands returned to his lapels. "You're trying to track down the Grimleal right?" he said, "To find their base of operations?"

"That is correct," Chrom said.

"Well," Lloyd said, "what if I told you I know exactly where to find one?"


	15. Chapter 15

Inigo could hardly believe his ears hearing Lloyd talk. What were the chances that this small village, in the middle of nowhere, would contain someone who could lead them to the Grimleal? By the looks of it, Chrom and Robin had trouble believing it too.

"You know where to find one what?" Robin said, "A Grimleal base of operations, or an individual?"

"An agent of the Grimleal," Lloyd said, "a high-ranking member seeking valuable information about the Great Awakening." His lips pulled once more into the small grin that was becoming his most defining feature. "I can tell you where he will be and when he will be there."

"We have encountered Grimleal agents before," Chrom said, "in ambushes and the like. They are usually not willing to cooperate."

"But, have you found one that desires to return? One that has higher ambitions than to sacrifice themselves for 'the cause?'" Lloyd said, "One who values their own life more than the lives of their comrades?"

Lloyd had a point, Inigo thought. If this Grimleal agent was not a warrior, not so attached to the Grimleal's sick ideology, perhaps there could be an opportunity to convince him, in one way or another, to bring the Shepherds to their base.

"And what makes you so sure that this particular agent is so eager to sacrifice his friends to spare his own life?" Robin said.

Lloyd eyed Robin. "Because I know him personally. He is originally from this village, after all."

Inigo glanced at Lucina to gauge her reaction. She was standing firm, her eyes narrowed in suspicion at Lloyd and Llewellyn. To be fair, it _did_ seem a bit convenient that the Shepherds would find someone that could lead them to the Grimleal, so soon after fears began to be murmured in the ranks that trying to track down Validar was a lost cause.

"If I may, Lloyd," Chrom said, "Am I correct to assume you informed our scouts that there may be information in this village about the Grimleal?" Inigo could not see his father's face but saw Lloyd's reaction; his signature grin faltered.

"I did," Lloyd said, "through Llewellyn and some others. It was the only way I could be sure you would come, so that we could form an agreement on what to do with Plegia after the Grimleal are no longer a threat."

"And what guarantee do we have that what you say is the truth," Chrom replied, "and not the lies of a man desperate to get his ideas heard?"

Lloyd glanced over to Llewellyn, who said nothing, but looked to him with slight concern. Lloyd reached into his jacket pocket, to the slight concern of Inigo and the other Shepherds, only to pull out a sheet of paper that had been folded up, and hand it out to Chrom, who after a moment, grabbed and unfolded it. Robin peered over to read alongside Chrom.

There was at least a whole minute of pregnant silence as Chrom and Robin read the paper, and Inigo could not help but notice that both Lloyd and Llewellyn looked somewhat nervous.

"This man, Holland," Chrom said, the surprise evident in his voice, "he will be meeting you in two days' time?"

Lloyd's nervousness finally regressed to his slight grin. "'In the usual spot,' as the letter says, to discuss what I would be willing to give from my father's collection of books. Anything that might prove useful to the Grimleal."

"And where is this 'usual spot?'" Robin asked.

Lloyd answered with a grin. "Perhaps I could show you…_if_ you would be willing to implement my proposal."

Inigo had to give Lloyd this, the man was clever.

Both Chrom and Robin looked to each other, then back to Lloyd. "Could you give us a moment to discuss this matter privately?"

"Take all the time that you need," Lloyd said, turning around with Llewellyn to head towards the crowd of Plegian villagers. Chrom and Robin walked back towards the Shepherds, where Lucina, Cordelia, Lissa, Frederick, and some others stepped closer to hear what they had to say.

Chrom cleared his throat as he looked at the paper once again, before turning it so that others could see it. "This letter claims that a Grimleal agent by the name of Holland will come in two days to meet with Lloyd in a spot outside this village," Chrom said.

"Can we be sure it is genuine?" Lucina asked.

Robin pointed to the wax seal at the top of the page. "This is Validar's personal seal as the King of Plegia," he said, "no villager, no matter how clever, could fake something like that."

"Then how did this Holland guy get a hold of it?" Lissa asked, which was a fair question now that Inigo thought about it.

Chrom turned the letter back to him. "A king may seal personal letters if they carry his blessing," he said, "it ensures the mail coaches understand the letter's importance and take care not to lose it."

Chrom handed the letter to Robin, then looked to his compatriots with an honest face. "We have not had a lead like this before. It took us nearly a week at the chateau just for the _hint_ that there might be something in this village."

"That's still a huge promise to make!" Lissa said, "what if this Holland guy just clams up like the rest of them? Then we have nothing, but Lloyd still gets his promise!"

"A promise that means nothing, milady," Frederick said, "so long as Validar is still king."

Chrom looked to Frederick with understanding. "It can't be a trap," he said, "because he needs us to get rid of Validar. His plan can't work any other way."

"Assuming it can work at all," Lucina said. Inigo was surprised at the peevishness in her tone. What had Lloyd done to get so under her skin?

"If I may, milord," Frederick said, "if this man's proposal is implemented, then Plegia will exist as a fractured continent, their leaders too concerned with their own affairs to strike Ylisse again."

Chrom grunted in thought. "Still…Lloyd is asking us not only to create a power vacuum by removing the Grimleal, but keep it going in a new, untested system. What is to stop Plegia from falling into chaos once again?"

"Chaos does not necessarily hurt _us_, milord," said Frederick.

"Perhaps not," Chrom replied. He indicated behind him slightly, "but it will hurt _them_."

A moment of silence passed, Robin still reading, others running the idea over in their head. Inigo could understand Chrom and Lucina's hesitation; what Lloyd was proposing had never been attempted, at least not seriously, in any recent history. The council idea supposedly existed thousands of years ago in long-dead countries, but to bring it back now, when the framework Lloyd provided was so ill-defined? To mar a victory against Validar by making his successors unable to defend or protect their people from themselves or outsiders?

On the other hand, however, Chrom could understand Lloyd's determination. Looking at him and his fellow villagers now, he could not help but see how lean they had become. There were perhaps one hundred villagers in the crowd, but the homes surrounding it could easily hold two or three hundred. Something told Inigo that this disparity was not because these villagers valued the extra floor space.

Robin audibly folded back up the letter. "I think we should do it."

Lucina looked surprised at Robin, but the others simply turned to him to hear him out. Robin held the paper up. "He couldn't have faked this. Even if this Holland turns out to be a dead end, it is the only serious lead we have."

"And what about the council?" Frederick asked.

Robin simply shrugged. "I guess we can cross that bridge when we get there."

Chrom looked at Robin, then back to the villagers. Inigo could hear an audible groan from his father. "Emmeryn was always more adept at politics," he mumbled, before walking back towards the Plegians. Robin accompanied him.

Llewellyn tapped Lloyd's shoulder, and he turned from his conversation with another villager to walk toward the Ylissean prince and tactician. They stood right back where they did before, both seemingly expecting the other to speak first.

Chrom broke the silence. "Provided you help us capture and interrogate this Holland…and lend your services to the cause of the Shepherds…" Chrom hesitated. "I promise you that I will personally see to it that your idea of a Plegian council is implemented."

Murmurs and whispers pervaded from the crowd of Plegians, and Llewellyn turned to Lloyd with a surprised, open-mouthed smile. Lloyd, for his part, looked shocked, as if he did not expect Chrom to actually say yes. The shock was quickly erased by a hard gulp from Lloyd as Chrom stuck out his hand. Lloyd looked at it for a moment, before clasping his around Chrom's in a firm shake.

…

Lloyd invited Chrom, Robin, and whoever else they felt necessary to join in a private meeting within Lloyd's home to discuss the particulars of the plan. Lucina, Inigo, and Frederick were chosen by Chrom, while Robin, strangely, chose Virion to accompany them to strategize. All of them joined Lloyd and Llewellyn in a home that, by the standards of the village, was above average in size, but by the standards of nobility, was horrendously small.

It was made of bricks with a thatched roof, elevated off the brown and pale green ground by a few slabs of limestone. The main room was flanked by two wings, one that was clearly a kitchen by the look of the chimney, and one that was presumably a bedroom. Llewellyn's head almost hit a ceiling of wood that looked covered with sheets or tarp of some kind, clearly meant to protect the series of bookshelves that surrounded the main room. A table with eight chairs was the centerpiece of the home, with an ancient candelabra in its center. No other furniture besides the bookshelves was present, though the shelves were eye-catching enough. Some held books, others rolled up maps and scrolls, still others had quills and ink with various trinkets of wood and tin. The flag of Plegia hung sadly along an otherwise barren wall.

"Do you all want anything?" Lloyd asked, "tea, water, something to eat?"

Chrom looked around as he entered with his party. "No, I don't believe that will be necessary."

"I am going to have some tea for myself, are you sure you don't want any?"

Chrom looked back to his comrades. Most shrugged, except for Inigo and Virion, who nodded, Virion quite excitedly so. "I…suppose if your making it, we can have some as well."

"Ell, would you please put some water on the stove?" Llewellyn nodded in understanding, and, with one last glance at his guests, departed into the small kitchen, ducking under the doorway.

"You," Virion said, "reside together?"

"Of course," Lloyd said, "he is my older brother, after all."

"Does he…ever talk?"

Lloyd looked at Virion with his small grin. "Only when he has something to say." Lloyd gestured to the table and bid everyone to sit down, which they did, as he rummaged around the shelves. Finally settling on a light blue scroll, Lloyd grabbed two small polished rocks and walked to the table. Unrolling the scroll and using the stones as paperweights, he revealed a well-drawn surveyors map of the village, with houses and plots of land meticulously sketched. In curved letters in the upper left-hand corner, the name of the village was finally revealed, _Scarlet Town._ Most seemed not to notice the name, but Inigo, strangely, seemed surprised to see that name in particular.

"Holland and I have met here a few times before," Lloyd said. "Never the in village itself; most of my friends have lost their affinity for the Grimleal, and besides, they would rather keep their embarrassing search for information a secret."

He pointed to a spot on the map just northeast of the village center. "We usually meet here, very early in the morning, before most people are up and about, beside the old well in the center of the rye field."

"What is the cover like by this well?" Robin asked. "Are there trees? Tall bushes? Anything to hide behind?"

"The rye is only three feet tall. We chose that spot specifically because there was nowhere to hide and listen in."

Robin and Virion peered at the map in concentration. "Perhaps an ambush is not necessary," Frederick said, "After all, it is only one man we need to capture."

"Holland is quick and full of tricks," Lloyd said, "he always ends our meetings by disappearing in a cloud of smoke."

"Teleportation?" Robin said. "That complicates matters..."

"What is the maximum distance a magic user could go with teleportation?" Lucina asked.

"Even a very skilled magician could only go about a mile," Robin said, "and it would take time for him to do so again."

"We could space units around a mile radius of the well," Virion suggested.

Chrom shook his head. "There is no cover. Holland would spot them long before he got to the well, and few of the Shepherds have the stealth necessary to walk all that distance in the open without getting spotted."

Lucina was looking at the map in concentration, when she realized Inigo was humming very softly to himself, his mouth twitching slightly without opening. His gaze was fixated on the map, and his eyes showed that he was focused. Had he ever hummed when he was deep in thought before, Lucina wondered. Was this another trait of his she had somehow missed?

Inigo's eyes suddenly widened, and his mouth opened, but it took a second for words to come out. "Buried," he said. All eyes turned to him. He met their gaze. "What if we buried ourselves in the rye field to surround him?"

Lucina looked at Inigo incredulously. "What do you mean bury? Like, we cover ourselves in dirt?"

"We dig holes," Inigo said his hands illustrating, "with sheets of wood on top covered in dirt. When the moment is right, we jump out, and we have him surrounded."

Virion's hand went to his chin. "Do you not think this Holland would see mounds of fresh dirt in a mile ring around the rye field?"

"What if its not a mile out?" Robin said, "What if…its right inside of it. Right around the well."

Lloyd looked at Robin. "The field _is_ scheduled to be re-tilled tomorrow," he said, "the dirt in the field itself would be disturbed by the tills. No one would notice fresh dirt from the holes."

"A few holes only feet away from the well," Virion continued, "if we synchronized our attack, we could have him completely surrounded."

"He cannot teleport if anyone is holding on to him," Robin said. He looked to Lloyd, "do you think you could grab him for a few critical moments where the others exit their holes?"

"Of course," Lloyd said, "but, Holland will get desperate if he's startled. If he cannot teleport, he will probably use every dirty trick he can imagine to get out of harm's way."

"We are no strangers to that kind of mindset," Robin said. He pulled out a small pen from his cloak, pointing to the map. "If we place holes with covers on them in four spots surrounding the well, we could have someone in contact with him while we try to take his mana crystals. Without them, he can't teleport, and we'll take him down until he's ready to talk."

"Assuming we can keep in contact with him for that long," Virion said, "a man that desperate to escape might throw himself down the well, using teleportation once no one is touching him."

"Could we board up the well?" Chrom asked.

"No," Lloyd said, "He's seen it too many times, and it's an old well. Anything new about it would make him nervous, which would make him harder to catch."

"What if," Virion said, "We use that to our advantage." He pointed to the map with his finger. "Somebody awaits in the well to grab him if he dives in, while the four doors sit right outside of it. His only escape route is covered."

"Provided he is held unto long enough," Lucina reminded. She looked Lloyd square in his brown eyes. "Are you sure you can keep your hold on him until we get there?"

Lloyd's eyes narrowed in response. "The importance of this is not lost on me," he said. "I will grab him. I will hold unto his cloak and hair. I will hold on as he kicks and yells, but he will try to use magic." He turned to Chrom and Robin. "If you are not out and ready to grab him in three seconds, I can't guarantee I can hold him any longer than that."

Chrom let out a small sigh. "Three seconds to determine the fate of the world."

Lucina could sympathize with her father, as it was no exaggeration. Fate was often determined like that. A few seconds, a missed opportunity, a chance not taken; all were potent in changing the course of lives. They would not give up, of course, even if Holland managed to escape; they would have to find another way to Validar. She had not come this far to be stopped by a game of hide-and-seek.

Still, even Lucina had to admit that that was easier said than done, as this was truly their only lead. It was unquestionably their single best opportunity to find the Grimleal before they found the key to their ritual. If Holland was captured and willing to talk, the Grimleal could not only be found, but taken by surprise. All they had fought for, their odyssey across time would finally prove fruitful; fate would be changed; a new destiny realized.

There was no room for error. They almost certainly would never get such a chance again.


End file.
